


Drawing the Line

by shadeshifter



Series: On the Line [1]
Category: NCIS, NCIS: Los Angeles, Numb3rs
Genre: Competent Tony DiNozzo, F/M, M/M, Tony DiNozzo Leaves NCIS Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadeshifter/pseuds/shadeshifter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony takes a stand at the worst time and is transferred to an Agent Afloat position again. There’s just the small matter of what to do with him in the month before the Roosevelt ships out of San Diego. End of season 10 AU. Tony-centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m catching up on NCIS LA and this happened. (Sorry, not sorry) ... Because I don't have enough Tony leaves AUs...

“He’s in Rome,” Gibbs said, referring to Bodnar, but only revealing that he'd had the information all along when Ziva approached him with it. It might have been to Ziva's benefit this time, or whatever excuse Gibbs told himself, but it was hardly the first instance of him withholding information.

“That’s what I thought too,” Ziva told him. 

“What are you waiting for? Take DiNozzo,” Gibbs said with a glance in Tony’s direction. “Go.”

“No,” Tony said, standing, tilting his chin up and physically bracing himself for what he knew Gibbs’ reaction would be.

“What did you say?” Gibbs demanded, standing as well and stalking up to Tony's desk. Tony wondered if Gibbs might actually hit him for this.

“No.”

“You sure that’s the call you want to be making, ‘cause if you aren’t with us...”

“You said you would help,” Ziva said, looking at him as though he’d betrayed her. He’d been dragged into Jenny’s revenge, looked the other way when Abby covered up for Gibbs because it didn’t just involve him anymore, and not been able to prove more incidents involving people Gibbs knew than he cared to think about. This, he decided, was the line he just couldn’t cross, not even to have his team’s backs.

“We’re supposed to be about justice, not revenge. Can you honestly tell me this is the former?” he said.

It felt liberating and terrifying to stand up to Gibbs again. Somewhere between Gibbs’ Mexican siesta and Tony’s summer at sea Gibbs had stopped trusting him and Tony had stopped trying. 

The look Gibbs gave him showed just how little Gibbs thought of that, how little he thought of Tony. But then Gibbs had started his NCIS career with an act of vengeance that Tony had never been able to reconcile, only ignore.

“Something you want to say?” Gibbs demanded.

“Nothing you’d listen to.”

“If that’s the way you feel then don’t bother sticking around.”

“You’re firing me? On what grounds?”

“Insubordination.”

“You really want to see what the pencil-pushers make of you firing me for refusing to take part in an unsanctioned operation?” Tony asked, wondering if he was arguing now just for the sake of it. 

Not that he particularly wanted to remain at NCIS, not after Vance had proved he was just as corruptible as Jenny. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand where Vance was coming from, he just figured the director of a federal agency should be held to a higher moral standard, should hold him or herself to a higher standard, than using the agency to follow through on personal vendettas. Especially after Vance’s reaction after Jenny. Still, after everything he’d seen, it rather felt like one agency was much the same as the other and he wasn't sure he wanted to have to start over again. He was getting too old and tired for that to seem like an advantage.

“Leave,” Gibbs told him. “Don’t care where you go, as long as it ain’t here.”

“Fine,” Tony said, grabbing his bag and slinging it on his shoulder. He hesitated and turned to McGee. “Make sure you watch your six.”

McGee wouldn’t listen to him if he told him to stay out of this too. The younger agent never did and especially not since he had his own issues with a dying father, but hopefully it’d make him just a little more careful. Tony glanced around once more, eyes briefly stopping on Vance who glared at him though narrowed eyes, before he nodded to himself and headed to the stairwell door. Despite everything, waiting for the elevator was not the dramatic exit he wanted to make.

...

After a night spent staring at the ceiling wondering what he was going to do with his life, he’d been more than a little surprised to receive a call from Cynthia saying the Director was expecting him in an hour. Tony had seen Vance watching the confrontation from the mezzanine and the only thing he could imagine was that Vance was going to fire him in lieu of Gibbs. 

That was how he found himself sitting outside Vance’s office, waiting for the man to call him in. Ziva and no doubt McGee were probably in Rome, but he didn’t know what Gibbs was doing which was why he took the elevator in the back that went up to the level of the Director’s office so he didn't have to pass the team's section of the bullpen at the base of the stairs. 

“Agent DiNozzo,” Cynthia said and nodded to the Director’s office. Tony stood, smoothed down his suit, straightened his tie and strode with purpose into the office. Stay or go, there wasn’t much Tony felt Vance could threaten him with. 

“DiNozzo,” Vance said with distaste, looking up from the screen in front of him.

“Sir,” DiNozzo responded, barely keeping from making it sound like an insult. Vance’s expression hardened into a glare and he worked the toothpick in his mouth furiously. Tony couldn’t help but wonder why he maintained such an obvious tell. He felt strangely distant, separate, like nothing could touch him. It wouldn’t last, he was sure, but hopefully at least for the duration of the meeting.

“Your new assignment,” Vance told him, handing him a folder. 

There was a small part of him that wished he’d been kicked to the curb, that meant leaving wouldn’t be his decision, or his failure, but there was a larger part that was relieved that even if he wasn’t on Gibbs’ team any more, he wasn’t going to lose everything. He flipped the file open and wasn’t too surprised to see another Agent Afloat assignment. Vance knew how much of a punishment he’d consider that, but at least at sea he knew he’d be well out of the way. 

“The Roosevelt only ships out in a month,” Tony said evenly. 

“Another team has requested you in the interim,” Vance told him in a tone that made him think Vance had had other, far less pleasant, ideas for the month. “You’re going to LA.”

Tony swallowed and took back whatever smug thought he’d had about Vance’s disposition. Nothing good ever happened in LA.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony took the elevator down to the morgue, hoping to avoid the bullpen. He had a day to prepare to leave, not unlike last time, and he really didn’t want to get dragged into another argument. Ducky and Jimmy were out on a case, so he sat in Ducky’s office, hidden from everyone and made some calls to put a hold on his utilities and sort things out so he could leave for a few months. He was just finishing a call to one of his frat brothers who’d arrange the storage of his Cadillac while Tony was in California and at sea when the two MEs returned. 

“Anthony,” Ducky said, smiling fondly, if a little sadly, down at him. “I heard about what happened yesterday.”

“It’s all right, Ducky,” Tony told him, rising to his feet at the doctor’s entrance.

It was only as he said it that he realised how true it actually was. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped seeing the team as family, maybe even as friends. He’d stopped telling personal stories that could be used against him. After Ziva’s arrival, he’d stopped expecting team activities all together. And after what little he’d let slip about his father and the entire team treating the man like the second coming, Tony had even begun to question the validity of his own memories and feelings. 

“Dear boy,” Ducky said and Tony realised that while he’d miss what the team had once been, or what Tony had thought they were, Ducky was one of the few people he’d still miss. 

“Doctor,” Jimmy said, entering the office with a file. He stopped at seeing Tony and gave him a sympathetic look. Jimmy was definitely another one.

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” Tony told them. “My flight leaves early tomorrow and I’ve still got to pack.” 

“So soon?” Jimmy asked and Tony nodded. Vance undoubtedly wanted him well out of the way as quickly as possible and Tony was actually a little glad to be gone. He wanted nothing to do with the whole operation. Not for a second time.

“You will be greatly missed,” Ducky told him and Jimmy nodded.

“Thanks Ducky, I’m going to miss you guys too.”

“And I’m sure Jethro will realise his error and bring you home in no time,” Ducky added, resting a hand on Tony’s arm in what Tony was sure was supposed to be a reassuring manner. 

“Not sure I’d come,” Tony admitted softly after a moment of hesitation. Ducky’s eyes widened and the corners of his mouth turned down in disappointment, but Jimmy didn’t even bother to hide the pride he felt at Tony’s declaration and something in Tony unwound a little.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Anthony,” Ducky said, patting Tony’s shoulder. “But I believe I understand and I wish you all the best.”

“Thanks Ducky.”

“Don’t forget to keep in touch,” Jimmy told him, to which Tony clapped him on the shoulder.

“Scouts honour.”

“You weren’t a scout,” Jimmy said with a smile.

“On my word as a Buckeye then,” Tony said, matching his smile with a grin. Jimmy had been a good friend, probably better than he deserved and better than he’d been to Jimmy. He was a good man, too, and it wasn’t the first time Tony had reset his moral compass by Jimmy’s. Being on Gibbs’ team always had a way of making it point a little off true north. 

“Have you spoken to Abigail yet?” Ducky asked and Tony’s smile faded.

“Not yet,” he said, wincing at the thought of the upcoming confrontation. 

“I’m sure she will understand,” Ducky said, his tone sympathetic but entirely unconvincing. Tony just gave him a resigned look and didn’t bother to reply. Ducky sighed but didn’t argue. “If there’s anything you need, my boy.”

“Thanks, Ducky,” Tony told him. “I appreciate it.”

Tony girded himself and prepared for facing Abby. As soon as he opened the stairwell door, he could feel the pulse of Abby’s music and winced again. He climbed the stairs slowly, raising barriers as he did, knowing that Abby’s first reaction was always to lash out. Pushing open the door on the next level, the volume of the music ratcheted up a notch and he wondered how everyone else on the floor dealt with her. 

He watched her through the glass for a moment, gauging her state from the way she had shoulders hunched as she angrily clacked at her keyboard and the way she didn’t subconsciously move to the music. It was now or never, he decided, and made himself walk forward and switch off her music. She startled at the abrupt change and turned, expression shifting into a glare.

“How could you, Tony!”

He should have known better, he did know better, but part of him had still been hoping she might see it from his point of view. After everything, he was hoping she might see Gibbs as something less than perfect. 

“How could I refuse to do something potentially illegal?” he asked, not bothering to prevaricate. He was tired of hurting himself to shield her and he didn’t have the time, not if he wanted to finish what he needed to before midnight.

“How could you not have their sixes?” she demanded, hitting his chest with the back of her hand; not particularly hard, but he backed up a step to put space between them.

“You really think she’s just going to arrest him when she finds him?” he asked. 

“All the more reason that she needs your support right now,” she insisted and he raised his eyebrows, surprised despite himself that she was completely disregarding what Ziva might do. 

“I’m not going to be complicit in murdering someone,” he told her.

“You kill people all the time.”

Abby dropped her frantically gesturing hands, glancing away from his even stare and looking vaguely ashamed of herself. He took some small comfort in that and had to remind himself that she’d never been in the field, she didn’t know the cost of choices like that. 

“Tony, they need you,” she said, instead of an apology. Rule 6 was one of the few rules he’d always had reservations about. Apologies were useless only if they didn’t precede a change, or at least a serious attempt at one. It didn’t help that half the rest of the rules seemed to be about Gibbs’ wants and desires, not what was for the good of the team and others. He was too jaded after years of small betrayals and much larger ones, had been too disillusioned with Gibbs for too long, to take Gibbs' rules as his own any longer.

“No they don’t,” he told her. “They haven’t for a while now.”

“That’s not true.”

“My flight’s tomorrow morning,” he said when it became clear they weren’t going to reach any kind of resolution. She looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You shouldn’t have to go. If you told Gibbs you were wrong, he’d make Vance put you back on the team.”

“No.”

“Don’t let your pride get in the way, Tony,” she begged. “You know how much you hated being afloat.”

He wasn’t sure what was worse, that she was so oblivious to his point of view or that she thought she was being a good friend.

“I’ll send you a postcard, Abs,” he told her. “But I’ve got to go.”

“Don’t leave,” she said, grabbing his hand and holding on tight. “Talk to Gibbs first. Please.”

“I have to go, Abby,” he told her firmly, pulling his hand from hers and turning to go.

“Tony.” Her voice was plaintive, well on the way to tears and he sighed but didn’t turn around. 

“I’ll see you around,” he said over his shoulder. He marched determinedly out of the lab, ignoring Abby calling to him. He breathed in deeply as he headed for the parking garage and dialed the number Tom Morrow had given him years ago when he’d offered him a job. He hoped it was still valid.

...

Tony stifled a yawn as he walked into the Los Angeles office. He’d been up since the early hours of the morning to make a 05h00 flight only to arrive in LA even earlier than he’s set out from DC; something he was sure Vance had arranged just to be petty. He’d barely had a chance to start trying to find somewhere to stay before he’d been due to report. Looking around, he was tempted to make a joke about getting to see the Batcave but, given the Spanish Revival architecture, he was more inclined to go the way of Zorro. Either way, it was better than the pseudo-seventies orange of the DC office.

“Agent DiNozzo,” a diminutive woman said from slightly off to his right. It took a moment to recognise her as Henrietta Lange, possibly the most formidable woman he’d ever met. 

“Ma’am.”

“Hetty will do,” she told him and he nodded.

“You requested me?” 

She narrowed her eyes a little and he wondered what she saw in him, if it was what she expected.

“Your last visit to Los Angeles didn’t end well,” she told him and he wasn’t able to entirely hide his wince at the reminder of what he'd been studiously not thinking about. “Lets hope this one is different.”

“Lets,” Tony said faintly wondering why he hadn’t just quit. 

“Now,” she said, her tone lightening. “Nell will get you settled in.”

“Thanks.”

A rather pretty woman appeared at his side and gave him a friendly smile that he returned automatically. She ducked her head, looking faintly embarrassed, before looking back up at him.

“Agent DiNozzo.”

“Ms Jones,” he said just as formally. 

“If you’ll follow me,” she said and led him to a desk across the entrance from what must have been the bullpen. Clearly they weren’t really set up for a five-man team, but he wasn’t going to be around long enough to get really uncomfortable or frustrated with the set-up. He set the case he’d been rolling behind him to one side of the desk. It only contained a handful of suits, his toiletries and some essentials. Since he would be on a ship in a month where space was at a premium, it seemed pointless to bring anything more. 

“I’ve set you up on our network,” she told him. “The details are in your desk drawer.”

“Thanks Ms Jones,” he told her, sitting in the chair and getting a feel for where he’d be for the next month. “Or is that Doctor Jones?”

He stoically withheld the impulse to make any further Indiana Jones or Short Round references.

“Nell is fine,” she insisted. 

“Tony,” he told her reaching out a hand which she shook with a smile. She left him to it then and he sat at his desk for a moment and absorbed everything. 

Not too long after, the OSP field agents began to drift in one after the other. They each cast curious looks in his direction, but didn’t bother him. When all four members had arrived, they joked with and teased each other with easy amicability, sides shifting quickly so that no one person was particularly targeted. It made his chest ache at the loss of something he’d thought he’d had, but seeing what it might have been, should have been like made him realise he never really had. 

They’d barely settled down for the day when they were called up to Ops on a case. Tony watched them go, but saw no indication that he should join them, so he stayed at his desk until after they’d left, feeling very much at loose ends. Finally, there was a sharp whistle and Tony looked up to see a man on the second floor looking at him. According to the file Tony had been given, that was Eric Beale. Eric quirked a finger at him and Tony jumped to his feet all too eagerly. He’d never been particularly fond of sitting around with nothing to do except think and he’d take doing anything at the moment, even paperwork.

“We’ve been getting reports of decommissioned Navy guns reaching gangs here in Los Angeles. We’ve managed to identify the main source, but we still need to find the supplier,” Eric said and he put several photos and reports on the screen. Tony looked them over, absorbing as much detail as he could.

“So the target is Caleb Spearing?”

“He’s been running a crew for the last five years. They started with chopping cars before moving onto drugs and then finally guns,” Eric said.

“A psychopath with ambition,” Tony said, mostly to himself.

“We’ve set you up with an identity,” Eric told him. “Lieutenant Alexander Cavallo has a history of disciplinary infractions and dissatisfaction with the Navy.”

Tony snorted at the choice of surname and wondered if Abby’s teasing about him being an Italian stallion had reached this far. It was quick work though, since he’d been there for only a few hours and Tony was impressed with the detail and care that had clearly gone into creating the identity. Still, he had his own experience with gangs and organised crime.

“I might have something that’ll work better.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so if you guys are willing to believe that the NCIS LA team can walk into the FBI office without being recognised after spending at least six years yelling to everyone that they're federal agents (and revealing themselves to the FBI, CIA, LAPD and ATF), I'm happy to rewrite again to go that direction. :p

Tony walked into Caleb’s, the imaginatively named bar that Caleb Spearing owned which Eric suspected was the front for his less legal operations. It was a dingy place, dark and undoubtedly dirty, though it was difficult to tell in the scant light. 

“We’re not open yet,” a gruff voice told him. Tony turned to see Caleb, but didn’t address the other three men surrounding him for now, though he didn’t dismiss them entirely either. A blond woman was draped over Caleb’s arm, giving Tony an empty look.

“Not here for the drinks,” Tony said and then he smiled his most charming smile. “I’m here to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

“Get lost, wiseguy,” one of the men said.

“Hey now,” Tony said, raising his hands to show he was harmless and wasn’t planning to cause trouble. “I’m Antonio Donati. Vinnie and Franco Genovese said you were the guys to talk to when I was in LA.”

Immediately Caleb's men drew guns, aiming them at Tony who raised his hands even higher. 

“How do you know Vinnie and Franco?” Caleb demanded.

Antonio Donati was an identity Tony had started developing in Philadelphia and Baltimore. The Macaluso operation had put it on hold temporarily, as had working for NCIS, but Eric had managed to fill in the gap. The Genovese brothers had been most active at about the same time.

“Met them when they were picked up for assault. Was Vinnie’s cellmate for a while,” Tony said calmly. “Franco said if I had an opportunity on the west coast, you were the guy to bring it to.”

“Vinnie lose any of that weight?” Caleb asked. Tony knew Vinnie Genovese spent a great deal of time working out, where Franco had been overweight.

“No, but Franco had put on another five pounds.”

Caleb grinned at him then and gestured for his men to lower their guns. 

“You got an offer?”

“Got a source who swore he could transport 10 kgs of heroin to Philly, but he’s backed out. Figured I’d offload it here at a discount and at least go back with something,” Tony told him with a shrug.

“Maybe we can work something out,” Caleb said, then he gestured to one of the tables. “I’ll want to verify the details first though.”

Franco Genovese had died of a heart attack two years ago and Vinnie Genovese had been sent back to prison for murdering a rival and was currently in solitary. Everything else about Tony’s story checked out thanks to Eric.

“Sure,” Tony agreed easily, knowing the point wasn’t to incriminate Spearing at this point, but to gain his trust to see who his supplier was. 

The woman unpeeled herself from Caleb’s side as they all went to sit around the table. She slid an arm along Tony’s shoulders and leaned in close. 

“Thought you were Caleb’s girl?” Tony said, unable to miss the hollow look in her eyes as she smiled coyly at him.

“Nicky’s just real friendly,” Caleb said with a laugh as Nicky settled in Tony’s lap. It was a test, though of what, he wasn’t sure. They might be trying to test how far he was willing to go or whether he was going to step over a line with the boss, either of which required different, mutually exclusive, actions

“Sorry, sweetcheeks,” he told her, thinking quickly and picking the third option. “I’m not interested.”

“You got a girlfriend?” she asked and Tony’s could see Caleb’s expression growing suspicious over her shoulder. He smiled affably, none of his unease showing.

“You got the wrong parts.”

“Hah, should have realised you were too prissy by half,” Caleb said, laughing again. Nicky climbed off his lap with something like relief and Tony felt himself empathising with her.

“I could give you a tip on a good barber,” Tony told him, running a hand over his slicked back hair as he glanced at Caleb’s shaggy cut. Caleb barked out a loud laugh.

“Think that’s one area I won’t be taking your advice, Slick.”

A flicker of movement outside the grimy windows caught Tony's attention and he tracked it out of the corner of his eye. The pattern was all too familiar and Tony rose to his feet.

“We’ve got company.”

“Don’t worry about it, they won't find anything,” Caleb told him with a smirk as he did stood as well. “It pays to have friends.”

Tony was prepared when several people in flack jackets and bulletproof vests stormed the bar. He dropped to his knees and placed his hands behind his head. The last thing he wanted was to get shot by his own side. Caleb did the same, though his crew hesitated a moment, more than one hand going to a gun, before they complied as well. Since he’d complied quickly, there was less attention on him and he managed to take out his earbud and flick it away. He couldn’t risk the agents finding it when they searched him. Any reaction from them might signal Tony’s identity to Caleb and his crew.

One of the agents, a tall, good-looking man with dark hair, directed the others to square away the criminals and clear the area before turning to Tony.

“You have the right to remain silent,” the agent told him as he tightened the cuffs around Tony’s wrists.

“Hey good looking, keeping my mouth shut has never been my strong suit.”

The agent's gait faltered a little as he led Tony to the Bureau’s prisoner transport. It never hurt to solidify his cover and messing with the FBI boys was always a plus.

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” the agent persisted, ignoring Tony’s comments.

“I can think of a few other things you can use against me.”

Tony turned his head a little to see what was definitely a faint blush on the agent’s cheeks even as he rolled his eyes and Tony grinned to himself.

...

Deeks hadn’t known what to make of Hetty calling in another agent. Despite how much he felt settled with the team, some small voice had whispered that maybe she was replacing him with a real agent. A real agent who used to be a cop and, from what he’d heard, had plenty of the skills Deeks himself had, plus a few years more experience.

That had been the reason Deeks himself hadn’t approached the man, not that he’d been given too much opportunity before he’d been sent out himself. The others were used to following Callen’s lead and for whatever reason Callen had been ignoring the clothes horse in the room, so to speak. The only people from the DC office Deeks had met were Abby and Vance, but he knew the rest of the team were better acquainted with the DC office and that there was a lot of history there.

Later, he’d found himself wandering up to Ops, listening in on DiNozzo’s operation just to see how he reacted under pressure. You could tell a lot about a man that way. And DiNozzo was good, quick to shift tacks, cool and collected. He was as good as Callen from what Deeks could tell, but it was only one small op and time would tell. 

Their monitoring of him went dark after the FBI rounded up the group, but Eric and Nell had managed to get visuals on him once he was in FBI headquarters. Not that the FBI ever had to know that they’d hacked their security feeds. Thankfully, the interview room was one of the few rooms that had audio. 

“What were you doing there, Mr Donati?” Eppes, the agent in charge, asked.

“It’s not a crime to get a drink,” DiNozzo said and then his tone shifted. “Next time you show up, I’ll buy.”

There was a pause before Eppes spoke again.

“How do you know Caleb Spearing?” Eppes asked, the barest hint of frustration creeping into his voice. They’d been at it for almost an hour and DiNozzo had managed not to give a single straight answer.

“How much of this is the cover?” Deeks wondered. Eric and Nell glanced at each other and shrugged. 

“It’s one of his own covers,” Eric told him. “We just made it current.”

“It was remarkably thorough,” Nell added.

“Just met him today,” DiNozzo said, answering Eppes’ question. 

“He’s not the kind of friend you want to have,” Eppes said.

“What about you?” DiNozzo asked, his tone suggestive. “Are you the kind of friend I want to have?”

Deeks choked on a laugh and then coughed when Nell and Eric looked at him. There was another pause.

“I’m the sort of friend who can offer you a deal if you cooperate.”

“I’m a big fan of cooperation.”

“Then you won’t mind telling me about Caleb Spearing.”

“Sure,” DiNozzo said conversationally. “I'll tell you whatever you want to hear, but I want to call my lawyer first.”

“Fine,” Eppes said, resigned and they all knew he wasn't going to get any further. Within a minute or so, a call came through to Ops that was routed, Deeks knew, through one or other office building around LA.

“I think I’ve got all I can get,” DiNozzo told the NCIS team when he had privacy. 

“Any more and you’ll have to offer dinner and a movie,” Deeks said with a grin. DiNozzo snorted. 

“The FBI doesn’t know the Navy connection yet, their strategy will be to lean on Spearing’s men to get them to talk, but they don’t have much, if anything, to hold them on. Spearing doesn’t keep anything incriminating at the bar,” DiNozzo told them, the light and flirty lilt to his voice gone completely. 

Deeks had to admit that DiNozzo definitely lived up to his reputation. They’d heard a whole lot of flirting, but DiNozzo had been using that to gather intelligence and only called when he’d got all he thought he could. 

“We’ll have someone there soon,” Nell told DiNozzo.

“Great, thanks,” DiNozzo said, sounding unconcerned. He hung up on them.

“Looks like you’re up,” Eric told him.

“You remember your criminal law, right?” Nell added. 

“Is there a reason we aren’t letting the FBI know he’s a fellow federal agent?” Deeks asked, though he knew if Spearing had friends who could warn him about FBI raids, they couldn't afford to let DiNozzo's identity get out.

“Because it would expose his identity to an entire department and possibly the group he’s trying to infiltrate?” Nell asked rhetorically. Deeks sighed, although the idea of pulling one over on the FBI was interesting. 

“This should be fun.”

...

Don didn’t have too much romantic experience with men. There’d been one or two experiments in college, though he’d hardly call those romantic, and he couldn’t deny finding Edgerton attractive. There’d even been his _thing_ with Coop, though he still wasn’t sure how to classify that. It was simpler, and better for his career, to stick to women, so he did. It was hardly a hardship.

None of that had prepared him for the suspect he’d just finished questioning. Donati wasn’t shy about declaring an interest or discrete like the few men Don had been involved with. Not that Don wanted to be involved, not with a criminal. And he hadn’t been with anyone since he and Robin ended their engagement. He just couldn’t deny that the guy was attractive, especially when he grinned at Don like they were sharing a joke.

He was grinning at Don like that now as Don re-entered the interview room. He’d just received word that Donati’s lawyer was on his way up. 

“Can’t stay away?” Donati asked and Don just barely schooled an amused smile. He didn’t know why he was letting the guy get to him. Maybe it was just the dry spell he’d been having since Robin. 

“Your lawyer's here,” Don said, keeping his expression neutral, although he figured he’d given something away from the far too amused glint in Donati’s eyes.

“Excellent,” Donati said. “As pleasant as your company is, I’m eager to get home. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” Don said dryly, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have given Colby a crack at him. Some instinct told him that would probably have been a bad idea. The last thing he needed was those two having a conversation.

Through the glass, Don watched a man with shaggy blond hair step off the elevator. The haircut was at odds with the grey three piece suit he was wearing, but it was LA and he’d seen weirder. Within a few moments, the man had been directed to the interview room. 

“Martin Dyson, Mr Donati's lawyer,” he said.

“Mr Dyson,” Don greeted neutrally.

“He only arrived in town this morning,” Dyson said, handing Don several sheets of information, including the details of the flight. “So I’d like to know what you’re holding him for.”

Over the lawyer’s shoulder, Don saw Donati smile angelically and somehow managing to look anything but. He looked over the information, but he really hadn’t been able to get anything on Donati. 

Donati’s records showed that he ‘d been heavily involved with criminal elements on the east coast, specifically in Philadelphia and Baltimore. He’d been arrested over twelve years ago and released from prison a little over two years ago. It appeared as though he hadn’t had any further contact with his previous associates, but he just might have gotten better at hiding it. Don really had nothing to hold him on though. He sighed and gestured for Dyson to take Donati. Hopefully he’d have better luck with one of the others. 

“Nice meeting you, Agent,” Donati told him as he brushed past, a little closer than strictly necessary, and Don flushed a little, knowing his team mates were never going to let him live this down.

Watching them leave, Don wondered if he could use his rapport with Donati to get him to turn. He was startled out of his thoughts by his phone ringing.

“Eppes,” he answered. 

“NCIS is on my ass for this, Eppes,” Assistant Director Holt told him. “They’re claiming jurisdiction.”

“We’ve already arrested Spearing,” Don told him.

“They want you to let them go,” Holt said.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Holt said. “They’ve got an ongoing operation that you got in the middle of.”

“Sir?”

“Normally I’d argue, but that is one woman I’m not going up against,” Holt told him. 

“Yes, sir,” Don said, still wondering about Donati.


	4. Chapter 4

After keeping up a front with Deeks on the ride back to the office, Tony headed straight for the showers, putting Deeks off with an admittedly weak excuse, but Deeks either seemed to buy it or wasn’t going to pry. At the moment, Tony didn’t care which. He pressed his forehead against the cool tile and let the water run over him.

As relatively comfortable as the FBI holding cells were, Tony didn’t think he’d ever feel comfortable on the wrong side of the bars. He doubted anyone did, law enforcement especially. But after Chip, Le Grenouille, Israel and Somalia, being on the other side of an interrogation gave him cold sweats. Especially when, in at least two of those cases, he’d had to seriously consider the fact that his bosses might be hanging him out to dry. 

Though none of them had ever been able to prove anything, they’d all had their suspicions, and he doubted Jenny would have ever admitted to being involved in Rene Benoit’s death if she hadn’t managed to catch Jeanne in a lie. And he still wasn’t sure what Vance’s plan had been if Tony hadn’t managed to get Eli David to admit his culpability. He was all too aware that he was a sacrifice the Director was willing to make.

He turned his face up into the spray and let the water, just a little on the uncomfortable side of hot, wash away the day. It hardly seemed real that he’d only arrived in LA that morning. He didn’t let himself get mired in the past, didn’t think about whether or not he could trust the team to have his back. Those were the kinds of thoughts someone in his line of work couldn’t afford to have.

His thoughts drifted to Agent Eppes instead and the expression he’d worn, caught somewhere between amusement and embarrassment, for most of the time he’d interviewed Tony. It had probably been the most fun he’d had in some time. Letting Tony pretend to not be himself for a while was possibly the kindest thing the Director could have done for him, but he’d thought that about Jenny when Gibbs left, too. 

Finally, he climbed out of the shower, his skin pink and his hair damp. Slowly, like putting on armour, he dressed in his own clothing, leaving the clothing he’d worn for the operation folded neatly to be dry cleaned. 

Most of the office was quiet, the people having gone home for the day, except for Hetty in her office and Eric upstairs. It was a good time for Tony to catch up on the paperwork federal agencies seemed to generate out of thin air. His phone rang before he could get stuck in and he glanced at the display briefly before answering.

“I haven’t even been gone a full day, Palmer,” Tony said with a grin. “You must really miss me.”

“That goes without saying,” Palmer told him with all the earnest sincerity that made being friends with him so easy and that had saved Tony from himself more than once. “I just wanted to check in with you.”

“I’m fine, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s snort was all the response Tony got to that and he rolled his eyes.

“What’s really going on?” Tony asked instead. Palmer’s silent hesitation was all the evidence Tony needed that there was indeed something more going on. 

“Ziva and Tim went to Germany,” Palmer said finally.

“Not Rome?” Tony asked, mind whirring with thoughts about the case and what else Ziva might be hiding this time. 

“Not Rome.”

“I see,” Tony said.

“Dr Mallard sends his love,” Palmer told him and Tony smiled again, warmed by the consideration of the two men.

“Tell him I expect to hear the rest of his story about when he attended the medical conference in Australia,” Tony said. Most of the time, Tony only heard Ducky’s stories in parts during cases and had to piece them together himself. 

“I will,” Palmer assured him, then added, “It isn’t the same.” 

Tony thought about the month ahead of him and the indeterminate amount of time after that that he’d spend afloat. He thought about leaving the place he’d considered home for the last twelve years in something very close to disgrace even though he’d been trying to do the right thing. Though he wasn’t sure what that was any more.

“It isn’t,” Tony agreed. A large part of him felt like it was mourning everything that meant anything to him, but a small, quiet voice was telling him it might just be a good thing. The disjunction meant he hadn’t even begun to deal with what he was feeling. “Thanks for calling, Jimmy.”

“I’ll keep you up-to-date,” Jimmy promised. 

They exchanged a few more words before hanging up. A shadow fell across his desk and he looked up.

“Callen.”

“DiNozzo.”

Tony ran his conversation with Palmer over in his head, wondering if he’d said anything that Callen could read into, but he didn’t think so. He knew Callen and Gibbs had a special relationship, the kind Tony had used to think he had too, until repeated experience had taught him otherwise. 

“Why are you here?” Callen asked.

“I was assigned here,” Tony said with all the feigned wide-eyed innocence he could muster that he just knew would put Callen on edge. Callen folded his arms and continued to stare down at Tony evenly. It was a cheap intimidation tactic, looming over someone who was sitting, but standing up to even the playing field would mean showing he was feeling intimidated. Besides, Callen had nothing on Eli David or Saleem Ulman and Tony wasn’t injured or drugged. 

“Why?”

“You’d have to ask Gibbs and Vance,” Tony said, not even his carefully even tone managing to keep all the bitterness out of his voice. “They seem to have all the answers.”

Callen narrowed his eyes and continued to stare down at him without speaking.

“Something I can help you with, Agent Callen?” Tony asked when it became clear Callen wasn’t going to say anything further. Callen merely grunted and walked away. Whatever Tony had been expecting from a confrontation with Callen, he wasn’t sure that was it.

“Good talk,” Tony called after him.

After a moment, Tony turned back to the paperwork on his desk, but realised there was no way he’d be able to settle enough to work on it. With a sigh, Tony packed up with the intention of heading to the boat shed so he could crash on the couch there. He still hadn’t had a chance to find somewhere to stay. 

...

The next morning found Kensi at a café pretending to sip coffee while DiNozzo chatted with Spearing like they were old friends. The two men had decided against meeting at the bar since Spearing hadn’t checking it yet for whatever the FBI might have planted while they’d had access, but Spearing had known a café where they could have privacy.

That ability to make people feel automatically at ease was vital to any undercover agent and it seemed to have come as easily to DiNozzo as if he’d been born with it. There’d been no psyching himself up, no repetition of the details of his cover, he’d just slipped from agent to criminal like it was as easy as changing clothes. 

“My contacts say you check out,” Spearing said. 

“Good,” DiNozzo said. “I think LA’s a little too hot for me.”

Both men laughed

“I could use some more coffee,” Spearing said and a few moments later the woman, Nicky, appeared from the side room Spearing had commandeered. 

“I’ve got an opening with the woman,” Kensi said softly.

“Moving into position if something goes wrong,” Deeks told her and she could see him slipping into a booth closer to her out of the corner of her eye.

Nicky approached the counter with an empty pot. Clearly, Spearing spent a lot of time at this particular café because the waitress didn’t even comment as she went to brew more coffee. 

“That’s a lot of coffee,” Kensi said idly. Nicky didn’t respond in any way. “I’m trying to cut back myself.”

Nicky nodded noncommittally but still didn’t look in her direction. 

“I started drinking it after I quit smoking but I just seemed to have swapped addictions,” Kensi continued with a chuckle, trying to draw the woman into conversation. Nicky glanced at her briefly before looking away. Kensi took a moment to glance over her, wondering what new angle to take. She frowned briefly when she spotted a fading bruise curved around her arm just beneath her sleeve and another one dipping below her collar bone.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said softly. Nicky looked at her intently for a long moment before she backed up a step.

“You’re a cop, aren’t you?” Nicky demanded. 

“I’m a federal agent,” Kensi told her, standing up so she was ready to act if necessary. “I can help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Everyone needs a little help sometimes,” Kensi said, urging the woman to believe her, not just because of what she could offer the case. 

“I’ll tell him,” Nicky said. “I’ll tell him about you.”

“That won’t change anything for you,” Kensi told her. “I’m giving you another choice.”

“I don’t need it,” Nicky said, pushing Kensi away. Kensi grabbed her arm, stopping her and Nicky flailed blindly at her. Kensi twisted her arm behind her back. “Leave me alone!” 

Nicky continued to struggle until Deeks had to assist her in subduing the woman after she knocked over a table.

“What’s going on here?” Spearing demanded as he exited the side room, DiNozzo close on his heels, both of them drawn by the noise.

“She assaulted a federal agent,” Kensi said, making Nicky move along and smiling as Spearing’s expression became an amusing mix of surprise and anger.

“I know a good lawyer,” DiNozzo assured Spearing as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll see what I can do.”

...

Tony arrived at the boat shed just in time to catch the end of Blye’s interrogation. He watched on the screen as Nicky backed away from Blye and Deeks until she hit the wall.

“Please just leave me alone,” she said, sliding down to the floor. Blye and Deeks looked at each, Deeks shrugging, before they both stood and left the room. 

“I can’t get through to her,” Blye said with a shake of her head. “Nate would know how to approach her.”

Tony slipped out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves as he watched the screen with the feed from the interview room.

“You go in there and you’ll break your cover,” Callen told him as Tony loosened his tie.

“Trust me,” he said, turning to look Callen in the eye. Callen stared at him for a long moment before he finally conceded with a nod, though Tony could read that he was still reluctant. 

Tony walked over to the interview room and rested his hand on the knob. He rolled his shoulders and breathed in deeply before he turned it and opened the door. Once in the room, he moved slowly, carefully, with obvious motions so as not to startle Nicky too badly.

“You’re a cop?” she asked when she saw who it was. He slid down the wall to sit a good two feet away from her. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I’m not going to tell you to leave him or that this is for your own good,” he told her. It was enough to make her look up, startled, but he kept looking straight ahead, non-threatening.

“What are you going to tell me then?” she demanded, her voice quavering. 

“When you’re a child, things happen that you have no control over. Things that irreversibly colour the rest of your life,” he said, voice low and even, knowing that the details weren’t important in and of themselves, only the effect. “You draw a line when you’re older and you think you know who you are and how the world works. You think it’s enough to know what you’ll allow, but the first time someone steps over that line and apologises, promising never to do it again, you move the line a little further. And a little further again the next time it happens, even when they’ve stopped apologising, until you’re in over your head and you don’t even know if there’s a line at all any more.”

“That’s not...” she said, trailing off on the lie. “He loves me.”

“Probably,” Tony agreed easily. A fair number of the cases he’d seen over the years had been because people loved each other. Love could be just as violent and cruel as it was warm and comforting. “Doesn’t mean he’s right.”

“You don’t know.”

“Don’t I?”

She was quiet for a long moment.

“How did you end up here?” she asked finally. He didn’t know the specifics of what she meant but that didn’t really matter either. 

“I made a choice,” he told her, finally turning to look at her. “I redrew the line.”

She searched his gaze, looking for sympathy or reassurance or sincerity, or all three. 

“How do I do that?” 

“Decide that you’re worth saving,” he said, letting her see some of his own wounds until she looked away. Tears leaked from her eyes as she began to cry, softly and silently, in the manner of someone who’d been punished for making a noise or for letting anyone know the poisonous secrets she kept locked away. She reached out a hand, blindly, and he took hers, giving it a squeeze when she held on tightly, like he was her only lifeline.

“You are worth saving,” he told her, wondering if anyone had ever said that to her before.


	5. Chapter 5

“You are worth saving,” DiNozzo told the woman.

“So are you,” she said softly. 

Deeks looked at the others and could tell they didn’t entirely know what to make of the wry, slightly bitter, smile that twisted DiNozzo’s mouth for a brief moment before being wiped away as though it had never existed. It did indicate some worrying things about his state of mind, though.

“Is he...” Kensi said, trailing off. “How much of that do you think was just about creating rapport?”

None of it, Deeks was worried was the real answer. It made him wonder anew at the reasons DiNozzo had left DC. If he had been in an unhealthy relationship, it would explain his reticence with them. If it was messy and potentially publicly damaging to the agency’s profile, it might even explain why the brass was so unhappy with DiNozzo. But something about that didn’t ring true to him.

“The best cover is mostly the truth,” Sam said quietly into the silence. 

Callen was staring at the screen with the frown he got when he’d just found another piece of the patchwork of his past and was puzzling out how it all fit together. 

“What do you want to do?” DiNozzo asked Nicky, giving her the power to choose.

“I want to be eight again, before everything went wrong.”

DiNozzo winced and Deeks knew from the scant information he’d managed to gather over the last day, mostly gleaned from his PD contacts, that DiNozzo’s mother had died at that age. He felt like he was intruding on something private, but the interview was being recorded anyway and there might be information they’d need to act on immediately. 

“I was always partial to being eighteen,” DiNozzo said, lightening the mood with a wide grin that invited those who saw it to join in. Deeks knew all about that, about finally having the chance to find something in the world that was his, a place in the world that he could call his own without the shadow of the past looming over him. He’d felt the same way going to law school and working with NCIS. Nicky smiled briefly before frowning again.

“I don’t know much,” Nicky said finally. “Some names, a couple of the places they go.”

“That would be helpful,” Tony said, not pushing her.

“Here we go,” Callen murmured as Nicky slowly, hesitantly, began to list names and places she could remember with some prompting from DiNozzo. Sam split the screen so they could get Eric to follow up on the information, but Deeks only listened to that with half an ear. 

“What do we know about what happened in DC?” he asked quietly.

“He left,” Kensi suggested, but it sounded more like a question.

“He was reassigned,” Callen said, folding his arms and looking uncomfortable, though whether that was discussing a fellow agent or the particulars of this agent, Deeks wasn’t sure. 

“Yeah, but why?” Deeks asked. He had a feeling Callen had an answer to that, but was just as sure that it wasn’t the full answer, not with how DiNozzo didn’t seem to be anything like what he was expecting. 

“If you ladies are finished gossiping, we’ve got work to do,” Sam said, cutting through their speculation. Deeks wasn’t entirely surprised that Sam would be the one to put a stop to it. He hadn’t even known Sam had a wife and kids for ages. 

“He keeps records,” Nicky said, making them all pause again. “With contacts and things. I don’t know, he never let me see it.”

“That’s really helpful,” DiNozzo encouraged. 

“He’s got contacts everywhere,” she added, curling in on herself.

“We’ll do our best to protect you,” he assured her. Deeks knew their ability in that regard was limited. Not that they wouldn’t do everything they could and more, but that it would be made even more difficult with Spearing’s network and not knowing where potential threats might be coming from. Nicky knew it too.

“But you can’t promise you’ll keep me safe.”

“No.”

“I guess I wasn’t safe anyway,” she told him with a tremulous smile.

“You do have a choice here,” DiNozzo said, even if it wasn’t entirely true, not with how much she had revealed to them already.

“I know,” she said, squaring her shoulders and looking more sure of herself. “This is my line.”

“It’ll be lonely,” DiNozzo told her, smile caught somewhere between proud and wistful.

“It’s easier to be alone when you can like the person you’re with.” Nicky clasped his hand in hers and looked at him earnestly when he didn’t respond and his expression turned pensive. “You’re a good man and you make a difference.”

From the look on his face, Deeks wondered if she could have picked something more targeted to DiNozzo’s vulnerabilities. Somehow he didn’t think so. This doubt wasn’t something any of his sources had hinted at, but a moment later he realised why. DiNozzo grinned a cocky smile and waggled his eyebrows.

“Isn’t that why anyone becomes a cop? Ladies love a man in uniform,” DiNozzo said. She laughed softly, humouring him just as he’d humoured her and didn’t push further. 

“Come on,” Callen said, clearly not wanting to pry any further when they had the information they needed and he and Sam left. 

“There’s something going on,” Kensi said to Deeks. “Something big.”

“I know.”

“And he’s in the middle of it,” she said, glancing back at the screen.

“He won’t be in it alone,” Deeks told her.

“What happens to me now?” Nicky asked.

“If you testify against him, you’ll probably end up in Witness Protection,” Tony told her and her exhalation seemed like relief. “You’d have to be someone else.”

“I think I’d like that.”

“Sometimes being someone else is a fresh start,” DiNozzo murmured. Deeks watched Nicky watch DiNozzo and realised they were seeing the same thing in him.

“Sometimes it’s running away,” she told him, searching his expression.

“Haven’t you heard? Running is good for you,” DiNozzo said with a crooked smile. Nicky looked at him sympathetically.

“Just don’t go so far you lose track of the line.”

They shared a look of such understanding that Deeks looked away, knowing that they were definitely intruding now. He moved to turn off the screen, catching Kensi’s eye as he did. He nodded at the look she gave him. Between them, they would get to the bottom of what was going on. 

...

Callen hadn’t known what to make of DiNozzo from the outset. The reports he’d had out of DC said the man was good at what he did, and Callen couldn’t see Gibbs keeping him around if he wasn’t, but also frivolous and immature. Leaving Gibbs and the Director when things had reached such a critical point in DC had seemed to point to the same conclusion, but the man he’d met was nothing like that. 

Where the lack of a past sometimes made Callen consider himself a blank slate upon which the identities he assumed could be written, he wondered if maybe DiNozzo was quicksilver, difficult to pin down and reforming with ease. Callen had seen him shift personas on the job, they all had practice at that, but DiNozzo seemed to do it just as easily off the job and seemed to do it without realising most of the time. Being undercover was mentally exhausting and precarious, and doing it in a place you should have felt safe enough to come back from that didn’t indicate anything good.

“You with me, G?” Sam asked quietly and Callen nodded, drawing his gun as they approached Spearing’s house. 

There weren’t any cars in the driveway, so it was unlikely Spearing had company, which served them just fine. MPs in San Diego would be handling the Navy contact and the LAPD would be rounding up Spearing’s men. Sam knocked on the door while Callen covered him in case Spearing did anything reckless, though from his profile that seemed unlikely. 

Spearing opened the door and sighed before pasting on a polite smile.

“What can I do for you now, Detectives? Or is that Agents?” he asked. 

“Agents Hanna and Callen, NCIS,” Sam told him, holding his gun steadily on Spearing as Callen approached him. “You’re under arrest.”

“This again,” Spearing said, sounding aggrieved. “You know you can’t hold me. When I talk to my lawyer I might just suggest suing for harassment.”

“You might have more pressing things to talk about,” Sam told him as Callen snapped the cuffs around Spearing’s wrists. Spearing scoffed but cooperated and Callen moved to searching Spearing’s pockets, pulling out a small, black book, a phone and his keys.

“Anything?” Sam asked. Callen flipped through the book first and shook his head.

“It’s a handful of phone numbers and a list of supplies for the bar,” Callen said. “It might be a code, but Eric and Nell would be the best bet for that.”

“For the phone too.”

“I want those back in the same condition, gentlemen,” Spearing told him. “Running a bar is more complicated than you’d think and my suppliers would be annoyed if I was late in paying them.”

Callen dropped both into evidence bags and was about to do the same with the keys when something caught his eye. It didn’t escape him the way Spearing suddenly seemed more alert to what he was doing either. There were two sets of remotes on the key ring and he pressed the first, not surprised when the garage door opened. He wasn’t surprised either when nothing happened when he pressed the second one. 

“Decided to exercise your right to remain silent?” Sam asked, watching Spearing’s reaction. Spearing narrowed his eyes but continued to say nothing. 

Callen felt around the dummy remote, trying to see if there was anything unusual about it, before he felt a seam. He twisted and it came apart in his hands so that he found himself holding a thumb drive. 

“Eric and Nell will definitely want a look at that,” Sam said as Callen dropped it in a separate evidence bag.

“Come on,” Callen said, grabbing Spearing’s arm and leading him to the car. Their part of things was done, the rest of it would be up to Eric and Nell, but either way, with Nicky’s testimony Spearing was going away.

...

“Team outing,” Kensi said as she stood after finishing the last of her paperwork. Tony glanced up from signing the last of his as she did.

“Not karaoke again,” Callen responded immediately.

Tony found himself smiling a little wistfully at the easy camaraderie and history this team had. Like all teams who’d worked together for a while, they had a language of their own in shared references and in jokes that he missed. However things had been with his team, they’d still had that. Mostly in the form of Gibbs’ rules, but it had bound them together. 

“I’m not going bowling,” Sam said quickly after that. 

“Karaoke sounds like a splendid idea,” Hetty said, appearing among them.

“What about it, DiNozzo?” Deeks asked, glancing over in his direction. “I’m guessing a little Bon Jovi.”

Tony couldn’t help but gag a little at the thought and Deeks laughed.

“Certainly not,” Hetty said, apparently offended on Tony’s behalf. “A man of his style would suit something more classic. One of the Rat Pack, I think. I’ve always loved ‘I’ve got to be me.’”

"Thank you, ma'am," Tony told her with the tip of an imaginary hat. He did a little a turn and added, "Though a little Fred Astaire never goes amiss either."

“No, no,” Kensi said, eyeing Tony up and down. “Right Said Fred. I’ve always loved a man in a suit.”

“I’m going to object to that on principle,” Deeks told her and she grinned at him.

“If you can’t pull it off...” Tony said with a wide smile while he waited for the rug to be pulled out from under him. He didn’t exactly have a good record with team outings. 

“Oh, I could pull it off,” Deeks said immediately. “In fact, I have pulled off a suit, thank you very much.”

Callen and Sam watched on with restrained amusement while Kensi rolled her eyes. 

“It’s LA, the only people who wear suits are businessmen and agents,” Deeks continued.

“And lawyers,” Kensi added with a grin.

“Yes, fine, and lawyers.”

“Wonderful,” Hetty said. “Now that that’s been settled, karaoke it is.”

Callen opened his mouth to object before he sighed and shook his head. 

“I’m buying first round,” Callen said, glancing at all of them, his gaze landing on Tony last, but including him in the sweep.

“That’ll be the day,” Sam said with a snort.

“Hey Sam, can I borrow some money,” Callen said with a grin.

“I thought so.”

“No boy bands this time,” Kensi said. 

“Friends don’t let friends sing boy bands,” Sam agreed solemnly.

Tony was smiling faintly when he pulled out his phone as it rang and stepped away from the others when he saw it was Palmer. It had to be quite late in DC, which meant something had to be wrong.

“What happened?” he asked. “Is everyone all right?”

“McGee and Ziva are a little banged up, but they’re fine,” Palmer was quick to assure him.

“What happened?” Tony asked, feeling light-headed and useless. If something had happened to the team because he hadn’t been there, he’d never forgive himself. He leaned against the wall, needing the support.

“They were in a car crash, but they’re fine,” Palmer repeated. “They were discharged from the hospital relatively quickly.”

“Not an accident?”

“No,” Palmer said after a moment of hesitation.

“Who? Why?”

“I don’t know the details,” Palmer told him. 

“I should come back,” Tony said, though he knew he would have to quit to do it. But if the team was being targeted, they’d need all hands to watch their backs.

“It’s being handled.”

“Jimmy.”

“Tony,” Palmer said firmly, rare steel in his voice before he softened. “They’ve got everyone here watching out for them and... they probably wouldn’t listen to you anyway.”

He was right, Tony knew that, but he couldn’t ignore the gut instinct that said he needed to be there protecting what was his in person. And in many ways they still felt like his team, regardless of his personal feelings or Gibbs’ dismissal and Vance’s reassignment. 

“I need to...”

“I know,” Palmer said sympathetically. “But they don’t need you to.”

That ached like a physical wound and Tony was glad he’d braced himself against the wall so he didn’t do anything stupidly embarrassing like stagger and drop to his knees.

“Tony, I’m sorry,” Palmer said a moment later, realising how his words would be taken.

“You’re right,” Tony told him, then repeated it more strongly.

“Tony,” Palmer said, sounding worried.

“It’s fine. You’re right.” Tony felt divorced from himself, as if he was speaking by rote. “I don’t need to go. I should stay in LA like a good little boy.”

“Its just, you’re more loyal than they deserve.”

“I understand Jimmy, but I’ve got to go. The team here’s waiting for me.”

“All right,” Palmer said, his reluctance to let Tony go obvious, but not having much recourse all the way the other side of the country. 

Tony ended the call and put his phone on silent so it wouldn’t be as obvious to the team when he ignored calls for the rest of the night. He took a moment to breathe and then smiled, bright and wide, throwing himself into the role of celebrating a victory and rejoined the others. 

“Hey,” Sam said, getting Tony’s attention as they all moved to go. “I was wondering, have you found a place to stay yet?”

Tony wasn’t entirely surprised that they seemed to know he’d stayed at the boat shed the night before. Undercover agents were more paranoid than most, especially about unexpected changes. And the addition of another agent was a pretty big change.

“I have,” Tony told him. The place he’d found was a hole in the wall, but it would do for the month he’d be calling it home. 

“Good,” Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder before heading back over to Callen. 

Tony hesitated a moment, before deciding not to look beyond the surface of the inclusion he was being offered. Even if it was temporary, even if it was because of what they’d heard him reveal, he’d take it. It made a nice change even if it left him feeling wrong-footed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will be dealing with the last few episodes of season 4 of NCIS LA and season 10 of the original, but I’ll gloss over what I can. I'm going to assume you have some knowledge of the episodes, but if you don't, it shouldn't be too important.
> 
> For those of you who don’t know the song Tony mentions, here’s the chorus:
> 
> Well, I've been afraid of changing  
> 'Cause I've built my life around you  
> But time made you bolder  
> Even children get older  
> And I'm getting older too

Tony ran; he ran until the sharp aches of a night spent on an uncomfortable bed transitioned into the dull throb of overexertion. He ran until the thoughts that had made him toss and turn all night became white noise and he could focus on just putting one foot in front of the other. 

He’d let himself fall a little too much into his role the night before, enjoyed the company a little too much, drank a little too much, let himself go a little too much. Instead of following Callen’s version of All Along the Watchtower with something light and easy like he’d planned, something like Hetty’s suggestion, he’d allowed himself to dwell instead and had ended up singing Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide, which had revealed all over again far more than he would have liked. 

Everything was just too close to the surface. He was still reeling from the events of the last few days and the huge changes they’d wrought, not least that whatever foundation he’d thought he’d had was suddenly gone. He hadn’t had a chance to go off and lick his wounds in peace, so he was left feeling raw and exposed.

“Running from something?” a slightly breathless voice next to him asked and he stumbled a moment before regaining his footing, cursing his lack of attention to his surroundings.

“How do you know I’m not running to something?” Tony asked Eppes, surprised to see the agent in a grey FBI t-shirt and sweatpants at his side. He wondered briefly if this was Eppes’ usual route or if, for some reason, he was tracking Tony. 

“You don’t have the look of a man running to something.”

“How does one usually look?” Tony asked, equally curious as to why his inner turmoil was suddenly so obvious to everyone and what Eppes’ answer would be.

“Hopeful.”

Tony stopped short at that and Eppes stopped barely a moment later, a look of wry apology on his face. He waited for Tony to start running again before he continued himself. 

“You might be right,” Tony admitted finally. Eppes glanced briefly at him before determinedly keeping his gaze faced forward.

“I heard Spearing and his crew were all arrested yesterday and that this time the charges might stick,” Don said instead of continuing the previous conversation for which Tony was grateful. 

“Fancy that,” he said blandly, tone at odds with his grin. Don glanced at him again.

“Informant?” he asked and Tony’s smile widened.

“I have been told I talk entirely too much.”

“But somehow never actually say anything,” Eppes said dryly.

“Depends on what you want to hear.”

They ran in silence for several streets, keeping easy pace, more slowly and measured than Tony had been running earlier. Finally, Eppes slowed to a stop outside a fairly up-scale apartment complex. 

“This is me,” Eppes said with a jerk of his thumb that made Tony consider encountering each other more likely to be coincidence than anything else. 

Tony nodded but found himself lingering anyway. Eppes’ company was the best, baggage-free company he’d had in a while and he found himself reluctant to leave. Eppes hesitated, expression and body language one of a man about to make a decision he already knew he’d regret but felt unable for whatever reason to decide otherwise.

“There’s a coffee shop just around the corner,” he offered and Tony nodded even though he wasn’t particularly fond of the stuff.

“Sounds good.”

...

Tony walked into the office a little late with a spring in his step. They’d just had coffee and made some light conversation, but Eppes had no expectations of Tony, no hidden agendas, and that made all the difference.

“Hey, DiNozzo,” Sam called. “Sirius Black?”

“Harry Potter’s godfather,” Tony answered automatically, shifting his path to approach the bullpen. “Wrongly imprisoned for twelve years for the betrayal of Harry’s parents to the Dark Lord Voldemort. Died by his cousin’s hand, protecting Harry in the Department of Mysteries. Played by Gary Oldman in the movies.”

“Oh good, you already know who he is,” Sam said with a pointed look at Callen who shrugged

“I still don’t see why I have to be a werewolf,” Callen told him.

“Professor Lupin?” Tony asked, looking at Callen and trying to imagine it.

“Exactly,” Sam said with another glance at Callen. “Saturday, 2 o’ clock.”

“I... what?” Tony asked, not entirely following the direction the conversation had taken.

“My daughter’s having a Harry Potter party.”

“But kids hate me,” Tony said.

“Then you can hide in a corner with Kensi,” Sam told him with an unrepentant smile.

Though Sam would be the last one he’d expect it from, the man had been nothing but politely and calmly accommodating, Tony couldn’t help but wonder if this was a joke. 

“If we’re stuck at this thing, then so are you,” Callen told him unsympathetically. “Misery loves company and so, apparently, do werewolves.”

From the top of the stairs there was a sharp whistle and Tony looked up, surprised to see Nell there and not Eric.

“He’s fetching the others,” she told them, then whirled around and walked back to her station. 

“Any chance Kensi’s going as Tonks?” Tony asked with a grin, trying to imagine her with pink hair, as they made their way up to Ops. 

“I have no idea who that is, but I have a feeling she’d hit you for that on principle,” Callen told him with a straight face, only a slight crinkling around his eyes betraying his amusement. Tony let out a breath he hadn’t fully been aware he’d been holding.

He waited for the others, Kensi and Deeks trailing in after Eric, only listening to their conversion with half an ear as he watched the video of a woman being chased in a parking garage and fired upon.

“And this is a case for us because?” Callen asked and Tony had to agree. There was no Navy or NCIS connection that he could immediately see. 

“Because I’m assigning it to you,” Hetty said without turning. They all looked at each other, clearly unsure how to take her non-answer and Tony gritted his teeth and kept his own silence. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

He knew it was a leader’s prerogative to keep secrets, often it was necessary, but Gibbs, and Hetty too it seemed, had taken that to extremes until it endangered either themselves or others, frequently both. Still, he took his cues from the team and they seemed ruffled, but not overly anxious or reproving. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened or they would be surprised, but it was clear that they trusted her enough to do what she asked. The only way that worked was if the trust was reciprocal. How many times had they each done something without explanation and only asked for trust in return? He tried to imagine doing something like that with Gibbs and only came up with a headslap to end all headslaps and a lecture about the rules. Gibbs had always been more of a do as I say, not as I do kind of person. As much as Gibbs frequently went off the reservation, he never tolerated it in his subordinates. Well, Tony had to admit, not unless it was Ziva.

When they were dismissed, Tony settled down to search for the men who’d stalked and attacked the woman in the garage. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was what made the difference between the teams, that they trusted each other without question. Even if they didn’t know her reasons for keeping things quiet, they trusted that she had them. Tony hadn’t been able to do that with Gibbs or Jenny or even Vance in far too long. 

...

After learning about Agent Grace Stevens, he woman from the video and apparently one of Hetty's pet projects, Tony found himself pacing the hotel hallway, making a show of listening impatiently to his phone. Inwardly, he was smiling faintly at the way Deeks and Kensi were carrying on, teasing each other on just the wrong side of work appropriate. He wondered if this was what people thought of him and Ziva and his humour vanished. The biggest difference, he thought, was that, despite the fact that they were both attractive and clearly at least physically attracted to each other, their encounters had always had an undercurrent of fighting for dominance. And Ziva had always been a little colder and more calculating, and he’d always been warier.

He kept a small portion of his focus on the teasing as he caught sight of Nell making her way down the hallway from the other end. She was dressed in a housekeeping uniform since, more often than not, that was the level of society that was most easily ignored. Tony himself had spent a fair amount of time being a janitor or waiter or, memorably during the Le Grenouille op, a baggage-handler. He’d learned some of his best intel that way. She nodded to him briefly as she let herself into Vandenberg’s room. 

According to Stevens, he’d been providing equipment to their enemies that facilitated in the development of nuclear weapons. Vandenberg had tried to kill her when she left him and Tony could have told her that seducing your way into the life of a man like that never ended well, even if Tony hadn't been seducing the source directly. He hadn't missed tense undercurrent between her and Callen and Hetty either. Callen had a different relationship to Hetty than the others; he acted like she was somewhere between mentor and mother, and Tony wasn't entirely surprised at his jealousy of Stevens, though this team seemed to fare better at keeping their personal emotions out of the job than his had. They needed to find out who Vandenberg supplied his equipment to but, after he'd had proved quite capable of having a woman hunted down and killed, Tony had his doubts about sending in Nell. She didn’t have enough experience in case things went wrong. He listened to the byplay as Nell looked around the room and, when she revealed that Visser, Vandenberg’s associate, was still in the room, he was already moving. He strode into the room she’d entered without pause. 

“There you are,” Tony said loudly, interrupting the brewing confrontation. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Nell just barely his her relief at seeing him, while Visser glared at him for the interruption.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Nell said, edging over to him. Visser made to grab for her and Tony beat him to it, pulling her along by her arm.

“You damn well should be,” he told her. “You just cleaned my room and now my wallet and watch are missing.”

“I’m sure you’re mistaken, sir,” Nell said, looking at him wide-eyed.

“I’m taking this up with your supervisor,” he told her. “And if I have to, I’ll be contacting the police, too.”

Visser immediately subsided at the mention of the police.

“That really isn’t necessary,” Nell told him as she let him drag her from the room.

“I’ll be the one to determine that,” Tony said archly as he firmly shut the door behind them. He dropped her arm as soon it was closed, quickly hurrying them away.

“Thank you,” she said, drooping in relief only briefly before straightening her shoulders and making her way back to Kensi and Deeks’ room where they’d set up their equipment.

Tony could see the potential in her. She was quick on her feet and used to thinking creatively. She also had good instincts, which were more important in many ways. There were some areas in which she undoubtedly needed some training, like the moment, just before she was forced to change her lies, when she hesitated. It was brief, barely a second, and most criminals she encountered probably wouldn’t even notice. But the few who were sharp enough to would undoubtedly also be the ones ruthless enough to do her irreversible harm. He was surprised they hadn’t addressed her training before, but then the LA team seemed to favour spontaneous, on-the-job training. It was a pity, not just for that, but also that he wouldn’t be sticking around long. She’d make an excellent Probie.


	7. Chapter 7

“You did good today,” Tony told Nell when she came to verify a detail for her report. Her smile lit up her entire being so he couldn’t help but smile back. “I take it you’re trying to move more into the field?”

“When the opportunity arises,” she admitted. 

It had gradually become clear that, whatever special affection Hetty had for Callen, it was Nell she was grooming to take over after her. It was just as well, since Callen would be utterly unsuited to a desk job.

“You’re good at going undercover, but being good isn’t enough,” Tony told Nell who looked up at him expectantly. He’d always thought this would be what having a Probie would be like, not that McGee hadn’t learned a lot, but he’d never felt like McGee was open to him passing on his skills. “You have to be great.”

“I know,” Nell said with a grimace. “The only experience I seem to get though is in the heat of the moment when it’s difficult to think straight.”

“The key,” Tony told her, “is practice, especially when it isn’t urgent, so that it becomes second nature.”

“Is that what you did?” she asked curiously.

“Not exactly,” Tony said, keeping his expression neutral. There hadn’t been a moment in his learning the skill that it hadn’t been urgent. Between learning the best ways to navigate the mercurial moods of his parents and the best lies to hide them from the world at large, it had never not been important.

“Try pretending to be someone else when you’re doing your usual chores,” he continued, brushing aside the memories with the ease of long practice.

“You mean like pretending to be a double agent while I’m doing laundry or a criminal when I’m doing the shopping?” she asked with an amused grin. Tony smiled back, amused at her amusement, but nodded.

“You think they don’t do those things?” he asked and she paused, taking a moment to consider it.

“I guess not,” she said thoughtfully. 

“If you want to become someone, truly inhabit who they are, it can’t just be the big moments. It has to be the mundane ones too.”

“I think I understand,” she said.

“You will,” he told her. Either she’d be faced with a situation where it would all just click together and she’d survive because of it, or she wouldn’t. He had faith though, and clearly so did Hetty. 

He watched her walk away for a moment before he signed the last of his paperwork with a flourish. Because he’d helped coordinate from the office, for the most part, obtaining and verifying information while Nell and Eric coordinated the team, he had much less to complete than the others. Since he’d been seen at the hotel, it had been deemed more prudent that he stay behind while the rest of the team went to trap Vanderberg.

“Agent DiNozzo,” Hetty said, appearing at his desk in a similar manner to the way Gibbs had, only Tony was usually aware of Gibbs.

“Hetty,” Tony responded cautiously. 

Hetty had had little cause to address him directly since he’d arrived and Tony still wasn’t entirely sure what she’d intended when she requested him. She hadn’t enlightened him and he knew better than to try to get it out of her. Mostly, he was just glad to have had the opportunity to leave DC before Gibbs had regained his equilibrium and decided Tony needed to better learn his place. He very carefully didn’t think about not being able to return.

“There’s an Agent Richter from Homeland to see you,” she told him. Tony swallowed hard.

“Right,” he said, standing automatically.

“He’s requested to talk to you at the boat shed,” Hetty continued, watching him closely.

“I understand,” Tony said, wondering just how much of an interrogation it was going to be. He didn’t have a great track record with other agencies taking his word for things.

“Perhaps Detective Deeks can accompany you?” Hetty offered, barely raising an eyebrow in question. It was tempting, to have someone with legal experience at his side just in case, but he wasn’t going to drag anyone else into his mess.

“That won’t be necessary,” Tony assured her and she nodded, but didn’t seem any less intent. Even after the day he’d had and the doubts that had surfaced, he was comforted by the concern she was showing. It was more than Vance ever had. The man had watched him being tortured for nothing and had said nothing, not even to give him a dismissive ‘it was necessary’, at the end of it.

“Is everything all right?” Kensi asked, looking from Tony to Hetty. Beyond her, he could see the rest of the team paying attention with varying degrees of subtlety. They might all be undercover agents, but that didn’t stop basic human nature.

“Just fine,” Tony said with a wide, automatic smile. Kensi relaxed a little though he could tell she was still sceptical. He assumed she was more reassured by his attempt than the smile itself.

“It won’t do to keep him waiting,” Tony added, straightening his tie and adjusting his jacket before grabbing his gun, badge and rental keys. He could feel their eyes on him as he left. 

...

Tony walked into the boat shed feeling like he was entering battle. The man who met him there was entirely unimposing, though Tony didn’t let that colour his perception. He’d nurtured too similar a disguise himself to be taken in by it.

“Agent DiNozzo,” the man greeted. “Agent Richter, Homeland Security.”

Tony shook his hand, waiting for an indication of what he wanted. Undoubtedly it had something to do with the phone call he’d made, but he wasn’t going to tip his hand until it became clear. 

“Before we get started, I was instructed to play the part of messenger,” Richter said. Tony looked at him expectantly as the agent pulled out his phone, made a few swipes and then turned it in Tony’s direction. Morrow appeared on the small screen.

“Agent DiNozzo,” Morrow said.

“Director Morrow,” Tony replied, feeling suddenly cold with apprehension as he imagined anew all the ways his intervention with Homeland could have made things go horribly wrong.

“One of my agents has been looking into NCIS and the primary MCRT,” Morrow told him without preamble. “Your information gave the investigation more weight and focus.”

Tony winced. He’d hoped something would come of it, something that would give Vance and Gibbs pause, to make them remember what they were supposed to stand for, to even stop them if necessary, but he hadn’t wanted to become the fulcrum upon which the case hinged.

“We’ve been looking into them for some time,” Morrow told him, expression both sad and resigned. Tony was reminded that Gibbs had worked for Morrow for longer than the three years Tony had been there too. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling like he’d let the man down. Morrow had been one of the best bosses Tony had ever had. He had trusted Tony and Gibbs to do the job without micro-managing them, unlike his replacements. 

“Sorry, sir,” Tony said, but Morrow just shook his head.

“It’s partly my own fault. I set a precedent of letting things go,” Morrow said and continued sympathetically before Tony could object. “I thought you deserved to know where things stand.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tony said, even if he didn’t particularly feel it.

“You were one of my best agents,” Morrow told him and Tony straightened automatically at the compliment. “The job offer’s still on the table whenever you want it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tony repeated. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“You might want to save it for after this is over,” Morrow said, but he smiled at Tony as he said it. The call ended and Richter put his phone away. 

“Now that that’s over,” Richter said. “When did you become aware of Vance, Gibbs and David’s, and by extension NCIS’s, unsanctioned campaign of revenge?”

“What?” Tony said, finding himself momentarily off-kilter and it took a moment to put aside the turmoil of his emotions and catch up with Richter’s abrupt change in conversation. 

As an interrogation technique it had some merit and Tony filed the idea away to think about later. Richter just stared at him unwaveringly. Tony sighed and started to speak. 

...

Callen was still working when DiNozzo returned, a perfectly amiable expression on DiNozzo’s face, but there was a stoop to his shoulders and a slight drag to his footsteps that hadn’t been there before. He’d stayed behind, lingering on his paperwork for just this reason. So had Deeks and Kensi, he was sure. Sam had gone home to his wife and daughter, and Eric and Nell had left as usual, unaware that anything was amiss. Even Hetty was still in the office, though no one really knew when she went home since she always seemed to be there. Despite wanting some answers of his own, Callen left the questioning to one of the others. Undoubtedly it would be better received were it not to come from him. He didn’t have to wait long before Deeks wandered over to DiNozzo.

“You look like shit,” Deeks told him.

“Still look better than you,” DiNozzo shot back and they grinned at each other for a moment before sobering.

“Anything you need us for?” Deeks asked.

Callen paid special attention to the expression that crossed DiNozzo’s face, half scepticism, half longing, and knew the feeling well. It had been a well familiar feeling most of his life, but especially before Hetty had found him and given him something stable to hold on to. It was wanting too much to reach out to someone else, make some kind of connection, but long experience having taught that that would only lead to pain. He felt a deep and surprising empathy for the man and wondered if this was the cause of Hetty’s interest in him. She had a habit of taking in strays and he had only just been reminded, in spectacular fashion with Grace, that she’d guided more than a few agents. 

DiNozzo shook his head, not elaborating at all, which – given what Callen had seen of the man over the last few days when he’d actually taken the time to look – didn’t seem like it meant anything good. Deeks hesitated.

“Is this to do with why you left DC?” he asked, leaning in and speaking softly. DiNozzo glanced around, eyes settling on each and every person watching them. Callen didn’t bother to hide his interest; DiNozzo wouldn’t have believed it anyway. 

“In a manner of speaking,” DiNozzo admitted, dropping into his seat in a move that looked more exhausted than casual.

Deeks cocked a hip against DiNozzo’s desk, subtly indicating his intention not to move until he had whatever he’d come for. As outspoken and gregarious as Deeks could be, he had a surprisingly extensive ability to manipulate. His attitude and appearance only made it easier to write it off as unintentional.

“They’re investigating irregularities,” DiNozzo told him, clearly aware of what Deeks was doing but willing to humour him anyway.

“Irregularities?” Deeks asked, sounding as confused and curious as Callen was. They hadn’t heard anything about Homeland conducting an investigation, but Dinozzo hadn’t seemed surprised or even worried, as he might be if he was the focus of it, only resigned.

“In the way certain things have been done,” DiNozzo hedged, his gaze darting first to Hetty’s office and then to Callen before coming to rest on Deeks once more. 

Callen frowned, wondering what he might have to do with things. The only conclusion that made any kind of sense, the only reason DiNozzo might be concerned about his reaction, was Gibbs. Callen liked and respected the man, admired him greatly even, but he knew he could be difficult and uncompromising. Not that DiNozzo had a problem with that, not if he’d worked for Gibbs for more than ten years. The only thing Callen could think of was the operation Gibbs and Vance had pushed for to find his wife’s murderer. Having been faced with his own mother’s murderer, Callen knew what a toll that could take on a person. 

“Anything serious?” Deeks asked. DiNozzo shrugged.

“I don’t know if they’ll find anything,” he said, which wasn’t an answer. Callen wondered what was really going on, why DiNozzo was really transferred.

“I get it,” Deeks said and everything about his posture and tone said that he really did. DiNozzo watched at him for a long moment before nodding. “Kensi and I were thinking of heading out for some drinks if you want to join us?”

“Thanks,” DiNozzo said with a shake of his head, “but I’ve got some some work to finish up.”

Callen knew it was a lie. He’d seen DiNozzo’s finished work before the man left to meet the Homeland agent. He thought about going home and the solace that brought him when he hadn’t had one in so long, and he thought about what that would be like for a man sleeping in a strange bed in a strange city.

“Next time,” Deeks offered, before giving DiNozzo a long look and reluctantly walking away. 

Callen kept his silence. He kept his head down, but took his time on his reports; going over his and Kensi’s and Deeks’, until there wasn’t a single error in any of theirs. It was only when DiNozzo sighed and began to pack up that Callen left for the night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I've had most of this chapter for some time, but there was a death in my family and I just lost all interest in writing for a while.

Tony pulled up outside Sam’s house, relieved immediately to see Harry Potter decorations adorning the quaint facade. He was even more relieved to see not just the children dressed up. The tension that had coiled tighter and tighter within him as the day approached abruptly released and he had to take a moment just to breathe through his relief.

He’d trusted Sam, or more accurately he’d desperately wanted to trust Sam, but it was still a relief to be given proof that he hadn’t made a mistake. Although, finding the courage to attend a kid’s birthday party was another thing altogether. The last time he’d done that was when he was a cop and the other guys had insisted on moral support. They’d mostly spent the day hidden away, drinking beer. He had a feeling this would be different.

He made himself walk up the pathway and knock as he entered the open door, only to hover in the entryway. Two women were greeting each other, one with a hand firmly on a girl’s shoulder.

“We’re set up in the backyard,” one of the women said and the other woman and child disappeared into the back of the house. The woman then turned to look at him, eyes narrowing when she didn’t recognise him and he hadn’t come with a child.

“You must be Tony,” she said, expression relaxing into a smile.

“Michelle,” he guessed and handed over the flowers he’d brought for her. Her smile brightened and she gestured for him follow her as she went to the kitchen to find a vase. Through the window, Tony could see Deeks running around, chasing the children while Kensi looked thoroughly aggrieved and embarrassed by his antics. Given his bright blue robes, Tony wondered if he was supposed to be Gilderoy Lockhart. Callen was standing as far away from everything as he could, fiddling uncomfortably with his robe, but even from this distance Tony could see the faintest smile.

“I’ve heard about you,” she told him, looking up from where she was arranging the flowers and Tony turned back to her.

“Sam’s told you, I suppose.”

“Among others,” she said, searching his expression. “Trent Kort had quite a bit to say about you and your team.”

“Nothing good, I’m sure,” Tony said, fighting to keep his expression neutral. His feelings about Trent Kort were complicated at best. The man had tried to kill him, but only after warning Jenny off the Le Grenouille case. “CIA?”

Michelle nodded and Tony wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Clearly that meant Sam and Michelle could understand the pressure their careers put on them and the reasons why they pursued them, but Tony didn’t think he’d ever fully trust anyone from the CIA. Though that might just be the ghost of his Ford Mustang talking.

“I think that, despite himself, he was impressed.”

“I’m not sure that’s any better,” Tony said eventually and Michelle laughed. She placed the flowers in the centre of the kitchen table and stepped back to admire them. 

“Regardless, from everything I’ve heard, even if it’s only for a month, there are worse people who could be watching Sam’s back,” she said, turning to look at him with a small smile.

“He’s a good man,” Tony said, not sure how else to respond to that. He knew someone like Michelle wouldn’t take the safety of her husband lightly, no matter her tone, and he felt honoured. He lifted the small gift bag he’d been holding. “I brought something for Kamran.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that,” Michelle said and gestured for him to follow her again. She showed him a table covered in brightly coloured presents.

He hadn’t known that little girls went for in the way of presents but he hadn’t wanted to show up empty handed either, so he’d ordered a necklace for her in the shape of the symbol for the Deathly Hallows, figuring that would probably be a good bet. He’d ordered the robes, express delivery, at the same time. 

Michelle lead him through the collection of girls hovering by the food and headed straight for Sam and Callen. 

“I found something that belongs to you,” she told her husband. “He looked a little lost.”

“Glad you could make it, DiNozzo,” Sam said, handing him a beer.

Sam swept his gaze across the lawn, looking utterly content and Tony felt a little wistful, wondering if he’d ever been that satisfied with life. 

...

The next few days allowed Tony to settle into as much of a routine as possible given his occupation. All that was interrupted by Deeks disappearing into one of his side jobs. With the way things fell between Deeks and Kensi, Tony wondered if he might not need some company.

It had been a difficult few days for Deeks, trying to negotiate a crazy woman who was too invested in his cover identity as well as a jealous partner. Deeks and Kensi seemed to be at an awkward phase between acknowledging an attraction and doing something about it. Gibbs might have taken it to the extreme, but there was a reason Rule 12 was official policy as well.

Deeks had been supportive when Tony needed it and Tony had to pay that back in kind. So, Tony knocked on his front door and waited for the Detective to answer, which he did a moment later. Tony hesitated when Deeks seemed surprised to see him, then drew himself up and held out a six-pack of beer. Deeks quirked a wan smile and opened his door further to let Tony in.

“What’s on?” Tony asked, glancing at the flickering television. Deeks followed his gaze and frowned, clearly not entirely sure.

“Some reality thing, I think,” he said finally with a shrug. 

The advert ended and they both realised he’d been watching the Bachelorette. Deeks smiled a little sheepishly. Tony shot him a grin and settled himself down with a beer.

“He doesn’t look like much of a catch,” Tony said as Deeks grabbed a beer for himself and settled in next to him.

“I don’t know,” Deeks said thoughtfully. “He looks like he’s got chutzpa.”

They fell silent and Tony watched the play of light cast by the screen and wondered what he should say. He didn’t know Deeks well enough just yet to know whether he’d want to lighten the mood and ignore things or commiserate. 

“Does it get any easier?” Deeks asked and Tony turned to look at him. “Balancing everything.”

His grimace at the thought of all the relationships work had sabotaged and the relationships that had interfered with work was all the answer Deeks needed.

“Yeah,” Deeks said with a sigh. “I didn’t think so.”

“You don’t want to take relationship advice from me,” Tony told him finally, his mouth curling into a wry smile. He knew his track record was especially abysmal. “Trust me.”

He took a long swallow of beer and Deeks copied the motion a moment later.

“What made you decide to make the switch from Detective to Fed?” Deeks asked after a long silence.

Tony considered that for a moment. He’d left Peoria because being a rookie cop from a wealthy family with a university education meant he hadn’t fitted in well at all. He’d learned to hide that better in Philadelphia, but then there was the fallout from the Macaluso case. By the time he’d learned Danny was crooked, he’d been more than ready to leave Baltimore.

“The opportunity came at the right time,” he said eventually. “I was ready for a change.”

“I don’t know that I want to take that step just yet.”

“Do you trust your team?” Tony asked.

“Yes,” Deeks answered definitively, no doubt in his voice, and that told Tony more than just about any other answer.

“Then they’ll understand.”

“Do you?” Deeks asked, turning to look at him.

“Understand?” Tony clarified and Deeks watched him with unnerving recognition in his eyes. Tony glanced away and back to the screen.

“Trust them. Us.”

“I... I want to,” Tony admitted. “It’s just...”

“You’ve been burned before?” Deeks prompted. Tony didn’t answer, knowing Deeks knew the answer already.

“I can’t work for people I don’t trust. Not any more.” 

He’d redrawn the line and he wasn’t going to compromise, not with this, not ever again.

“I know she keeps secrets,” Deeks offered, beginning to peel at the label of his beer. They didn’t specify who; they both knew they were talking about Hetty. “I don’t think she realises half the time that she does it; she’s been doing it so long that it’s just who she is now.”

“You don’t have a problem with that?” Tony asked and Deeks shrugged but didn’t seem to have taken any offense at the question.

“She’s done a lot for me, for all of us,” he said. “The only time I’ve seen her clarity clouded is when one of her protégés is involved, but she’s only human.”

Tony could understand that, could even accept it. He didn’t expect his bosses to be more than human, just to be reasonable and decent. That didn’t seem like too much to ask. 

“She’s never let me down,” Deeks continued and, out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see Deeks staring at his profile. 

“I guess I can understand that,” Tony said, even if he wasn’t sure it changed anything.

...

Almost without thinking about it, Tony had begun adjusting his schedule so he could go for a run in the mornings just after 6:00; the time he’d been most likely to encounter Eppes. It seemed the other man was doing the same since they’d managed to meet up consistently over the last few days.

“Donati,” Eppes greeted, speeding up to catch up to Tony and then slowing again to keep pace.

“Tony,” he told him. “Call me Tony.”

Eppes felt like the one person with whom he could be most relaxed, it felt uncomfortable to be referred to by a fake name, like a splash of cold water. Eppes didn’t acknowledge that statement beyond a brief glance in his direction.

“Something going on?” he asked. Tony gave him a surprised look, to which Eppes responded, “You seem more tense than usual.”

“There was a development that made things more complicated,” Tony told him, keeping the details vague. Between Homeland and what was going on with Deeks, that felt like an understatement, but he didn’t want to drag that all into whatever refuge he’d managed to carve out of these early morning encounters. “It wasn’t entirely unexpected, just unwelcome.”

“Given what you might be involved in, I’m not sure if I should be sorry or not,” Eppes said with a smile. Tony laughed.

“What does your gut say?” Tony asked. Eppes gave him a sidelong look that swept up and down Tony, lingering in a way that made his stomach lurch.

“That I’m hungry,” Eppes told him, avoiding a more serious answer. “There’s a place around the corner that does a great omelette.”

“I could eat,” Tony offered and followed Eppes as he shifted direction. They’d been out for coffee a few times, but they’d never had a meal together. Tony smirked. “Does that make this a date?”

“You’re going to be so much trouble,” Eppes said with a shake of his head and a reluctant smile, but he didn’t disagree.

“Keeps things interesting,” Tony told him.

“’May you live in interesting times’ is a curse, you know?”Eppes said with a roll of his eyes. Tony grinned.

“I could make it worth your while,” Tony said with a wink. Eppes stumbled a step before catching himself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried Rough Trade’s nanowrimo and only got about a quarter of the way before real life kicked me in the teeth. It’s a Tony/Eliot Spencer scifi fic I really do want to finish at some point, but clearly trying to fit it all in one month was just way too much.

“So who put that smile on your face?” Kensi asked, sitting herself on the edge of his desk and folding her arms as she looked down at him. 

“Maybe you did, darling,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. She snorted her disbelief and looked at him steadily. His expression relaxed back into a smile and he shrugged, not quite willing to admit that he might have been stalking the FBI agent who arrested him. At the very least Eppes seemed to be doing the same thing.

“I haven’t seen you this relaxed since you arrived,” she told him, leaning forward. “There’s definitely a story there and I’m going to ferret it out.”

“You do that, Lois Lane,” he said, rolling his eyes and trying to hide a faint smile.

“Agent DiNozzo?” a man asked walking up to them. He was dressed in a suit, scrawny but not too tall. And he oozed officiousness. Tony’s good mood vanished. He really wished this would all be over with. 

“Agent Richard Parsons,” the man said. “Department of Defense.”

“Of course,” Tony said, feeling a deep exhaustion sweep through him. “We can talk in the armory.”

Parsons raised an eyebrow but nodded. The interrogation rooms were at the boat shed and Tony didn’t want to delay this conversation that long. The LA office didn’t even have an elevator he could stop between floors, so the armory would have to do. Tony stood and gestured for Parsons to follow him.

“Tony?” Kensi asked, tilting her head in the agent’s direction. He gave her a subtle shake of his head and lead the other agent down the corridor, knowing that despite her curiosity Kensi would respect his privacy. 

“How can I help you, Agent Parsons?” Tony asked, leaning a hip against the table and folding his arms. He doubted he looked any more relaxed than he felt, but it was a sad indictment of his life that the act was easier than honesty.

“Gibbs was dismissed. He should have been made to stand trial, but Vance is sweeping it under the rug. McGee and David resigned, taking responsibility for Gibbs’ actions,” Parsons told him, looking at Tony searchingly as if trying to see in Tony what the others might have been thinking when they acted. Tony shrugged. The team and the agency had made their choices, just like he’d made his.

“And you’re looking for more evidence?” Tony asked. 

“I’m looking for the truth,” Parsons told him, full of righteousness and passion.

“Director Morrow has my full statement,” Tony told him, folding his arms. 

“And what about the truth? Does he have that?” Parsons demanded. There was a part of him that was desperate to tell Parsons he couldn’t handle the truth, but he knew Parsons was trying to do the right thing and now wasn’t the moment to quote movies. 

Corruption had been allowed to fester at NCIS for far too long and all the agent was trying to do was weed it out, which Tony could respect. But Gibbs had resigned and he’d taken McGee and Ziva down with him. Going after Gibbs further would only pull more people into the mire and open up questions about all of their cases being compromised. It wouldn’t accomplish anything different than had already been done and a lot more harm than good might result. 

“He does,” Tony said, because even if he hadn’t told Morrow all the little details, Morrow knew enough about the situation and the players to infer anything he might have left out, intentionally or not. 

“You left for a reason,” Parsons insisted. “You went to Director Morrow for a reason.”

“Seems like my aims have been met,” Tony said without yielding. It was more than he’d expected and he wasn’t going to turn doing the right thing into a vendetta. That’s what had got them to this point in the first place.

“Fine,” Parsons said, looking at him for a long moment as though waiting for him to suddenly decide to unburden himself. Tony stood firm until Parsons sighed and placed a card on the table in front of him. “If you change your mind.”

Then Parsons was gone. Tony leaned heavily on the table, head hanging low, and exhaled. He really just wanted this all to be over with, whatever the consequences. The door closed with a soft click and he looked up to see Hetty standing there, watching him closely. He pushed off the table and stood loosely at attention.

“Hetty,” he said.

“Agent DiNozzo,” she replied, then paused for a moment. “Tony.”

He raised an eyebrow before smoothing out his expression again. 

“Keeping an eye on me?” Tony asked, his voice carefully neutral. Hetty’s gaze remained steady, but he hadn’t expected anything different. 

“You are one of my agents,” she said, walking forward until there was only a few feet separating them.

“For another week or so.”

The Roosevelt was due to ship out then and Tony didn’t know how he felt about that. Getting away, usually having nothing more serious to investigate than the occasional theft, it might even be good. But he was starting to like LA and, as complicated as the whole situation was, he really wanted to find out where things were going with Eppes.

“Hmm.”

He had no idea what to make of that response so he ignored it.

“You ever worry about doing the right thing?” he asked her, his eyes shifting away from her piercing gaze even as he was curious about her answer.

“Isn’t that in the job description?” she asked him, the weight of her gaze a heavy thing. 

“Hmm,” he said, echoing her non-committal response. 

“If doing the right thing was easy, Agent DiNozzo, everyone would do it.”

...

Tony didn’t know how they got into these situations. He’d think he was cursed, but he’d seen their cases from before he arrived and this wasn’t anything new for them either. He tested the bonds tying him to the chair, but there was no give, no way he could wiggle his way out. 

He heard Sam’s yell as they shocked him and clenched his teeth but didn’t otherwise respond. He looked over to Deeks, but the man was still barely responsive. Tony hoped it was an act to throw off their captors. He tensed when Sidorov moved away from Sam, letting the door shut behind him, and stopped several feet away, glancing between Tony and Deeks. Tony glared fiercely back. Sidorov stared at Tony for a long moment before he moved over to Deeks. Tony gritted his teeth, twisting his hands again. It was clear that Sidorov was going after who he perceived to be the weakest of them, even if it wasn’t true. 

“Is it safe to sell the bombs or are there other undercover agents?” Sidorov demanded, leaning over Deeks. 

“I already told you, I’m an undercover LAPD narcotics officer. We were casing the house,” Deeks told him. Tony had to admire the way he stuck to his story, but he also knew that wasn’t going to be enough here. 

“You really this incompetent?” he asked idly when Sidorov grabbed Deeks’ head to hold him still. He wasn’t going to let Deeks get tortured right in front of him without doing what he could to stop it. Sidorov ignored him, but the other man glanced at him. Tony allowed the briefest smirk. “You think some stupid cop who walked into the wrong situation can tell you anything?”

“And you can?” Sidorov asked, straightening up and watching Tony through narrowed eyes.

“Shut up,” Deeks said, shaking his head.

“I can tell you whatever you want to know,” Tony said.

“Protecting your friend isn’t going to change anything,” Sidorov told him. 

“Probably not,” Tony agreed easily, waiting for Sidorov’s lackey to approach him. He stood and swung around, the chair hitting Sidorov’s lackey hard and knocking him back. 

Tony remembered all too vividly the last time this had happened, but then he hadn’t had to worry about what would happen to Ziva if he failed. She’d already been released by then and backup had been on its way. This time all they had was themselves. 

The lackey tried to get up but Tony slammed a boot into his head and he collapsed again, this time unconscious. Tony stumbled a little as the movement unbalanced him. He turned just in time to see Sidorov swing at him with a heavy metal canister and then everything went black, Deeks’ screams following him down.

...

Tony came to at the sound of boots on the concrete floors. He squinted his eyes open against the light filtering in, but otherwise remained silent as he tried to judge friend or foe. He was still tied up and his arm had gone numb from where the weight of the chair rested on it. The throbbing in his head didn’t go away, nor did the sensation of the light stabbing into his eyeballs and he was fairly certain he had a concussion. The other aches and pains he has managed to accumulate didn’t manage to compare to that. 

“Alright, there’s two over here and another in there,” a voice called. 

A figure wandered into his field of view and he immediately recognised the paramedics uniform.

“Untie me,” he demanded, voice tight with pain. The paramedic dropped to the ground immediately and began to gently remove the tape from his wrists. As soon as one hand was free, Tony grabbed the scissors from her and cut his other wrist free with much less caution despite her objections. He handed back the scissors and attempted to lever himself up, not quite managing between the pins and needles shooting down his arm and the way the room was spinning around him.

“Sir,” she said, pushing gently on his shoulder. “You really shouldn’t move. There’s a lot of blood coming from your head wound and I don’t know where else you might be hurt.”

“Either help me or leave me alone,” he told her and she sighed but wrapped an arm around him and helped pull him to his feet. Tony’s gaze swept the room and he took in Granger and some paramedics with Sam before turning to look at Kensi kneeling in front of Deeks who had his own set of paramedics. He looked like a mess. 

“Sir,” she said with a little more force and Tony stepped forward, making her either keep supporting him or let him stumble on his own. She huffed in annoyance but let him guide them closer to Deeks. There were several conversations going on, but Tony didn’t have the concentration to focus on any of them. Everything was going into putting one foot in front of the other. 

“Deeks,” Sam called, forcing himself to his feet, “did you give up Michelle?” 

Deeks shook his head and despite the swelling to his jaw and the pain he must be in he still answered.

“No.”

“Was Sidorov playing her just now?” Sam continued.

“I didn’t give her up,” Deeks said, like it was the only thought he was clinging to.

“Deeks,” Tony said, standing far enough away that he didn’t get in the way of the paramedics. “Good job.”

Deeks looked more than a little out of it when his gaze caught Tony’s, but he nodded vaguely. 

“You really need to lie down now, sir,” his paramedic said and suddenly he didn’t even have the strength to stand. Luckily a gurney seemed to have manifested itself and she guided him to lie down on it. 

Tony didn’t remember most of the ride in the ambulance, which was actually a little worrying, but he’d focus on that later, when Deeks wasn’t quite so critical. He followed the other two men being wheeled through the hospital corridors on gurneys, even if he himself had to submit to the indignity of a wheelchair; his only concession in the debate between getting treatment and sticking with his team mates. 

He got there just in time to see Kensi leaving with Granger, looking upset and trying to hide it. He gave her a nod as they passed each other and she breathed in deeply before nodding back. Tony was determined to have Deeks’ six.

Looking at him, Tony couldn’t help but think of Somalia and Israel, of waking up in a sewer, of all the things that had left him bruised and bloodied and maybe a little broken. The team wouldn’t be the same, not for a while yet. He leaned forward, careful not to touch the man after all he’d been through.

“You’re not alone,” Tony told him softly. “You just hang in there. We’ve got you.”

...

Tony sneaked out of the bed they’d assigned him the first chance he got. Whatever they had him on had made his headache subside to a dull roar. It seemed the best they could do with the medication they were able to give him while he had a concussion, but he’d had worse in worse circumstances, so it wasn’t the end of the world. 

He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Sam dressed and looking ready to be discharged coming out of one of the rooms. Although Sam did seem surprised to see Tony, if only for a moment before he rolled his eyes.

“Deeks is in there,” Sam said with a gesture at the room he’d just left. 

“What are we looking at?” Tony asked, not bothering to ask how either of the other men were. No one was fine with anything that had gone down. 

“He’s recovering from his injuries,” Sam offered, eyes skirting away from Tony’s for a moment before returning. “And he’s thinking of quitting.”

Tony raised an eyebrow but, while the news was a surprise, he couldn’t say he was entirely shocked. Whatever else Deeks had been through on the job, he’d never been tortured and he’d never been trained for it. Sam had been through that kind of training in the SEALs and Tony, well, he considered his entire childhood training for that. 

At least Deeks had his law degree to fall back on if it really did decide to throw in the law enforcement towel. Tony had felt that way a time or two in the past. The only thing that had stopped him was that he honestly didn’t know what else he could do with his life. Still, whatever Deeks decided, Tony would give him whatever support he needed. 

“My wife...” Sam said with another vague gesture and Tony nodded, making a shooing gesture and hoping that the way the world swam around him wasn’t too obvious. 

“Go,” Tony told him, absently feeling around the bandage on his forehead, sure that from the way it felt there was a darkening bruise on his temple. “I’ll stay.”

Sam hesitated a moment, gaze lingering on the door to Deeks’ room. Tony didn’t envy him being caught between his team mate and his wife, but Sam didn’t have to cover everything by himself. Finally, Sam nodded.

“Look after yourself, too,” Sam told him. Tony nodded absently, pushing his IV stand in the direction of the door and shuffling along behind it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys finally get some Don/Tony.

“Didn’t expect to see you in today,” Callen said, coming to stand at his desk. Tony glanced up before ducking his head and returning to his work. The bruise where Sidorov had hit him was dark against his tanned skin, but Callen viewed it as a mark of what he'd been through in an attempt to save Deeks. 

“I wanted to finish my report.”

“Could have waited a day or two,” Callen persisted, trying to read into the hunch of Tony’s shoulders and the clench of his jaw. Tony shrugged, not looking up and Callen thought again about the empty hotel room Tony was likely facing. “Sam told me what you did.”

“Just doing my job,” Tony said dismissively, continuing to look like he was working on his report though it was obvious he wasn't really. The response didn’t surprise him, even if it once might have. Before Callen had worked with him, had gotten to know Tony, as much as Tony would let any of them, he would have believed Tony would revel in gloating. He knew better now. 

“Yeah, but... thanks,” Called said, hoping that when Tony looked up at him, he could read his sincerity. They hadn’t started off on the right foot, most of which was Callen’s fault, but he knew Tony was a good guy. Whatever had brought him to LA, Callen couldn’t imagine Tony had intentionally screwed things up, no matter Gibbs’ reaction. 

After a moment, Tony simply nodded and deliberately relaxed the tension in his shoulders. He was the only other man Callen had ever met that could shift everything about himself just as easily and quickly as Callen could. It didn’t speak to a stable or healthy childhood, especially when Tony didn’t seem to ever turn it off.

“I’d have you at my back, any time,” Callen told him, hoping Tony would read into that what Callen couldn’t bring himself to say. It felt too much like choosing sides. 

“You don’t want me on your ass,” Tony said, unable to hold back a grin. “Between us, we might have the worst luck in the entire agency.”

Callen laughed but couldn’t disagree. 

...

Tony stared at his screen for a long moment, fingers hovering over his contacts list before he finally gave in and texted his location. Deeks didn’t want anything to do with them for a while and Tony couldn’t really blame him, not with everything he’d been through. But Tony didn’t want to go back to his empty hotel room and deal with his thoughts alone. 

He briefly glanced around the bar but, beyond a casual perusal, no one was paying too much attention to him. He drank deeply from the beer in front of him and waited for a response. Not even ten minutes later, someone settled into the seat next to him. Tony tilted his head in Don’s direction and Don’s eyes widened, scanning the side of his face and Tony knew he could see the bruises even in the dim lighting of the bar. They were rather spectacular. 

“What happened?” Don asked with a jerk of his chin. Tony smiled, but he didn’t need the narrowing of Don’s eyes to tell that it was a little off.

“Pissed off the wrong person.”

“That a concern in your line of business?” Don asked, fishing. Tony’s smile widened.

“More often than I’d like.”

“Maybe you should try a different business,” Don suggested. 

“Maybe,” Tony conceded. “But I don’t know who I am without what I do.”

“I know what that’s like,” Don said, clearly not entirely sure he was comfortable having that in common with Tony. Tony smirked, a faint curl of his mouth, amused at Don’s expense. They were likely far more alike than the other man could guess at. If things had been different, if it hadn’t all been such a mess, they might have actually had a shot.

“You ever regret the decisions that led you here?” Tony asked. Don breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. He toyed with one of the bowls of peanuts on the bar for a long moment, turning it one way then another. 

“Sure,” he said eventually. “I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

Tony conceded that with a nod, still looking pensive. 

“You regret being here?” Don asked, eyes shifting away before settling back on Tony’s face. 

“In this bar? With you?” Tony asked, leaning forward and smiling, because this moment might the only sane thing in his life. “Not even a little bit.”

Don smirked back at him then and leaned in close, the glint in his eyes sparking warmth in the pit of Tony’s stomach. 

“Want to get out of here?” Don asked and Tony realised that was the question he'd been waiting for all night. 

“Absolutely.”

He tossed back the last of his drink and left a bill on the bar before standing up. Don’s smirk hadn’t faded at his eagerness and he stepped forward, crowding into Don’s space. 

“How far to your place?” he asked.

“Not yours?” Don asked, eyebrows raised in a skeptical arch.

“If you’re really interested in a dingy hotel room of dubious cleanliness,” Tony offered. The hotel room wasn’t as bad as he made it sound, but there were things there that, with a bit of snooping, might reveal him. Don wrinkled his nose. “And you’re closer.”

“Planned this out, did you?”

“Hoped,” Tony said with a shrug, “not planned.”

He slid a hand around Don’s waist and pulled him against himself. 

“You really do think too much,” Tony told him. 

“I do, huh?”

“We both want this,” Tony said softly, speaking directly into his ear. He could feel the exact moment Don shivered and submitted to this draw between them. Don pushed him up against the bar, the counter digging into his back, and stayed like that for a long moment, breathing deeply like he was fighting for control. Tony's interest spiked at the thought of making him lose that control.

“Fine,” Don growled and then stepped away, pulling away from him and striding out of the bar with determination. Tony grinned and followed him out. He’d barely stepped through the door when his shirt was fisted and he was shoved against the wall. Don pressed a thigh between his and looked at him a moment before closing the distance between them. He tasted like coffee and hazelnut and Tony couldn’t help but smile against his lips. 

“Come on,” Don said, stepping away from Tony but not releasing his grip on his shirt.

“I’m leaving in a few days,” Tony said, stalling their advance so that they were frozen, pressed together and still breathless.

“Back to the east coast?” Don asked conversationally and Tony couldn’t gauge his feeling about it one way or the other. Tony gave him a wry smile.

“To sea, actually.”

“Like a cruise? Sounds like fun.”

“It really won’t be,” Tony told him. “I hate being stuck at sea.”

“So why are you going?” Don asked, eyes dropping down to follow the movement of Tony’s lips as he spoke.

“I just wanted you to know where I stood,” Tony said.

“Noted,” Don said and pulled Tony with him to the car. 

...

Don’s awakening was a sudden thing when he felt the bed shift beside him. The lingering warmth against his shoulder and waist indicated that Tony had only just moved away from him. His thoughts were more than a little conflicted about what had happened. He’d had sex with a man. A man who was at best an informant and at worst a criminal. A man who was leaving in a few days. Which was probably the best thing for him. Not least because he didn’t even have the emotional distance to call him anything but Tony in the privacy of his own thoughts. 

He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even as he heard Tony move almost silently around the room, gathering his clothing and slipping it on. It should have been a relief that Don could escape his transgression without any awkward confrontations but that didn’t explain the way his heart was pounding in his chest or the sinking feeling in his stomach. All sound stopped for a moment and Don couldn’t shake the feeling that Tony was pausing to watch him. He held his breath, not daring to move. There was a soft exhalation and then the sound of Tony opening the bedroom door. 

“Wait,” Don said, opening his eyes, not entirely sure why he was postponing the inevitable. Tony had stopped, hand still on the door handle, door half open. He looked caught between the moment of staying and leaving and Don still didn’t know which one he’d prefer. 

“This doesn’t have to be complicated,” Tony said quietly and Don fully agreed, but that didn’t explain why Don had stopped Tony and Tony had let him.

“Little late for that.”

Tony chuckled, letting go of the door handle and half turning back. The bruise across his temple looked even worse in the light of day and Don knew it wasn’t the only one. There were several more and a lifetime of scars under those clothes. He hadn’t mentioned them, hadn’t even lingered on them, the night before. Not when he had his own scars and stories he didn’t want to tell.

“I suppose it is at that.”

“You did promise to make it worth my while,” Don said with a quick smile. 

“You telling me I didn’t live up to that promise last night?” Tony asked, eyebrow raised in mock offense. Don laughed and Tony grinned at him. They both knew that Tony had more than lived up to it, more than once. Tony’s expression turned sly and he stepped forward. “I could always give it another go. Make absolutely sure I keep my promise.”

Don couldn’t help but respond to the low, rough voice and the half-lidded eyes. With great reluctance, he tamped down on the response.

“As much as I like that idea,” Don said, reaching for the jeans in a heap on the floor. “I have to show up at work today.”

“Pity,” Tony said, but he shifted his weight back, expression clearing, and Don was relieved. Tony was an addiction he couldn’t seem to let go, even at the expense of everything else. But then, when it came to his relationships, he hadn’t always made the best decisions. 

“Who are you?” Don asked, turning to watch Tony who watched him back with equal intensity.

“If you really want to know, I’ll tell you,” Tony said and Don could tell he was serious. Don would be able to let go of all his doubts, but at the possible cost of whatever this was between them. Because once everything was solidified, once he knew the answers to all his half-thought out questions, Don wouldn’t be able to ignore the truth. His conscience and his training wouldn’t allow him to do anything else.

“But it would be dangerous,” Don stated, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

“Yes.”

“For me?” Don asked, wondering if there was a threat in that. If Tony would follow through on it.

“For me,” Tony corrected, still watching Don carefully, weighing and judging him. Don considered that, considered what the consequences might be. Finally, Tony looked away from him, arms folding across his chest defensively. It was the first time Don had seen him anything less than confident and self-assured. “I’m leaving soon, does it really matter?”

“Is your name really Tony Donati?” Don asked instead.

“My name is really Tony.”

Don didn’t need to be a genius to know what to read into that. Tony was using a fake name, he’d deduced as much already. There could be any number of reasons for that, not even all of them criminal. But he’d conceded that his first name was real. If Don could trust that, it was something true he could hold onto. 

“Eggs or pancakes?” Don asked, reaching for his under shirt and pulling it on, then running a hand through his hair. 

“Pancakes,” Tony answered with a smile, clearly relieved that the previous line of questioning had been dropped.


	11. Chapter 11

Tony wandered into the office mid-morning. As much as he’d wanted to spend what time he had with Don, he had paperwork that needed finished before he shipped out. There were a few other people in the office; it was never completely silent, but it seemed limited to Eric singing to himself upstairs and Hetty sitting at her desk. Hetty looked up at him when he entered and beckoned. 

He sighed, not sure he was ready to deal with his leaving orders, with being stuck on a ship with no allies and no escape for who knew how long. But hesitating would only delay the inevitable, so he dropped his bag off at his desk and stopped short of her desk, resisting the urge to fold his arms defensively across his chest. 

“Have a seat, Agent DiNozzo,” she told him with a gesture to the chair opposite her desk. He moved to take a seat, forcing his spine to relax and his hands not to clench on the arms while he watched her pour two cups of tea.

“How can I help you, Hetty?” he asked as she pushed one of the cups toward him. He’d never had a boss offer him tea before and couldn’t help but brace himself for bad news.

“You won’t be serving on the Roosevelt,” she told him, keen eyes watching him closely. A flurry of emotions, too turbulent to name, swelled within him until he swallowed it all down.

“I see,” he said finally, expression never changing. Hetty took a long sip from her cup, gaze firmly on him over the rim. 

The Roosevelt had been Vance’s way of getting Tony as far out the way as possible without firing him, which he couldn’t do without any reasons he’d be willing to admit to. If even the Roosevelt had been taken off the table, Tony could only assume that Vance had finally found a half valid reason. 

“You’ll be assigned to this office as a permanent member of the team,” she said, cutting through his speculation and he had to wonder how much of it had been clear for her read. Even if he’d been honing his craft since he was a child, she’d spent as long practising on spies and terrorists which, regardless of how he might personally feel, were far more treacherous than his father. 

“Why?” he asked bluntly, figuring it wouldn’t harm anything at this point to put his cards on the table. Hetty stared at him for a long moment before she folded her hands in front of her and sighed. 

“Detective Deeks is out of commission for the foreseeable future and, while Ms Jones has the makings of a fine field operative, she is still without critical experience in the field,” Hetty told him, and it sounded good, but something about it rang with the hollowness of an excuse. “This office has always had space for expanding, but there hasn’t been a need before.”

He shifted his gaze away from her for a moment as he considered his words. 

“What’s the real reason?”

“You’re too good an asset not to use to your fullest extent. The Roosevelt does not fit that description.”

It was said bluntly, matter-of-factly, and Tony couldn’t help but remember Gibbs’ rule number 5; You don’t waste good. His mouth twisted into a bitter smile for a moment before he forced it to something more neutral. Nothing good would come from the comparison.

“You keep secrets,” he told her, since he was laying his cards on the table and he wasn’t going to start somewhere else without drawing his line and sticking to it.

“Everyone in our business keeps secrets,” she said without remorse. 

“Unnecessary ones that impact the safety of the team,” he continued, because that was a point on which he couldn’t compromise. 

“I always have this team’s safety at the forefront of my mind,” Hetty said, spine straightening in offence. Tony didn’t let that stop him, because if he was going to burn his bridges he might as well do it in style.

“We keep secrets from civilians to keep them safe, to prevent panic that would cause more harm,” he told her, implacable. “Keeping secrets about fundamental operational parameters doesn’t protect the team.”

The whole situation with Grace had been a prime example of that. Hetty had let her private relationships and personal loyalties interfere with the functioning of the team. From the team’s reaction, it had hardly been the first time, but somehow she still had their devotion and that could only come from being there when they really needed her. He wasn’t sure he could give himself to another relationship like that again. Not after Gibbs. He didn’t have that much faith left in him. 

“I see.”

“I hope you do,” he told her seriously. “I can’t work for someone I don’t trust.”

“I understand, Agent DiNozzo,” she said and he could see that she did. Time would tell if what he’d said had any impact. 

The phone rang abruptly, interrupting them. 

...

Hetty looked over to see who was calling and breathed in before answering.

“Director,” she said, gesturing for DiNozzo to retake his seat when he immediately rose to give her some privacy. The man watched her with the caution of a mistreated animal as he followed her direction. That wasn’t too far off the mark from what she’d been able to gather. The Washington office had not done right by this man and she had a feeling this was the about the last chance they had to keep him with the agency. He was far too valuable to lose to another agency or to burnout, whichever came first. At this point, it was a little to close for her to predict with any reliability.

“Ah,” she said, listening as Vance started to rant about DiNozzo. “I see you’ve come across my personnel request.”

She knew enough about the circumstances of DiNozzo’s departure from Washington, even if she didn’t know the exact particulars, to know Vance didn’t have a foot to stand on in his condemnation of the agent. It was why she had jumped on requesting him. He was precisely the sort of agent she favoured; bold, brash, extremely good at what he did, and a little world weary but not broken. Not yet. Between him and Callen, the process of folding him into the team had been a difficult, but it had been coming together well. The last sticking point was, unfortunately, herself.

“Given recent events,” Hetty said, her gaze catching on the dark bruising at DiNozzo’s temple, “I believe sending Agent DiNozzo afloat would be inadvisable.”

It was her hope that letting DiNozzo see her defending him despite her amicable relationship with Vance would go a long way to getting him to trust her. It was a fairly transparent ploy, but there were few other things she could do that he wouldn’t catch immediately or that wouldn’t break trust if he eventually caught her. She almost smiled at Vance’s predictable scoffing.

“Agent DiNozzo and two of my team members were tortured,” she told him, catching DiNozzo’s sceptical eyebrow. He might not agree with her interpretation of things, not with the damage the others, especially Detective Deeks, had suffered, but even without the physical harm that had been done to him, he’d been under enormous psychological pressure. She was well aware of how field agents tended to minimise the impact their experiences might have on their psychological welfare. The idea of sending him onto a ship where he’d be isolated, without the support that had formed around him, was just cruel. She couldn’t conscience removing part of Deeks’ support either. “Perhaps an agent from the San Diego office would serve better?”

She could tell Vance was quietly seething and she knew he wouldn’t listen to reason about DiNozzo now but, once he had some distance from the situation, she was definitely going to call him on it. It wasn’t like him to be this wilfully blind. 

The call ended on a reluctant concession from Vance, who just seemed happy that DiNozzo was staying out of his way. DiNozzo watched her for a long moment, expression neutral and she was curious what his reaction would be. 

“What would you have done if I hadn’t been injured?” DiNozzo asked, apparently unaffected by the conversation, but she could almost see his keen intellect working over the problem.

“Your previous record made that seem unlikely.”

He snorted at that and betrayed a hint of a reluctant smile.

“Hetty,” he said with a nod to her as he stood. She nodded back and watched as he walked away. 

...

It had been two days since he’d seen Don, since he’d learned that he would be sticking around LA, and Tony still hadn’t let Don know. He wasn’t sure how to feel about Hetty’s insistence on keeping Tony around, couldn’t bring himself to believe it was actually real, not until the Roosevelt had left American waters. Even his bags were packed and waiting by his door. 

The office had been tense since Deeks had taken his leave of absence. Given the circumstances, there hadn’t been much fuss about Tony staying, but he preferred it that way. Especially since it was only by Hetty’s and Vance’s goodwill. Tony had swung by Deeks’ before work, letting the other man know Tony would be around if he needed anything, but Deeks was withdrawing and there was little Tony could do about that except keep showing up until Deeks was willing to let them back in again.

As he worked, Tony couldn’t help but keep looking back at what time it was, getting increasingly more and more tense as it grew closer to the time the Roosevelt was leaving. His anxious thoughts were interrupted by Eric whistling sharply, drawing everyone’s attention. Tony narrowed his eyes at the frown crinkling Eric’s forehead, so far he’d only seen Eric look like that when one of the team was involved in a case. 

“We need everyone up here,” Eric said without any of his usual jokes or teasing. The team looked at each other, none of them having any clue what might have happened, before they made their way upstairs. 

“Spearing’s escaped,” Nell said without preamble. 

“How?” Tony asked, because they’d had him dead to rights and Nicky didn’t deserve to go through this all again. 

“He must have had help,” Nell told him. “He disappeared in the middle of a transfer.”

She cued up a video that showed an agent escorting Spearing. They walked off camera but neither showing up on the next one. From what Tony could tell from the angles, there was only a small blind spot between them. 

“The agent suffered a concussion and remembers nothing about what happened,” Eric told them. “The medical report confirms the possibility.”

“But he’s alive?” Tony asked, leaning forward as he searched the repeating footage. “And otherwise unharmed?”

“You think it’s someone on the inside? Another agent?” Callen asked, turning to take another look at the footage himself. Tony doubted either of them would pick up something Nell or Eric hadn’t; they both had good instincts for this sort of thing. He shrugged at Callen’s question.

“It’s looking like a distinct possibility.”

“A criminal would have been far more violent in subduing him,” Sam added in agreement. 

“What’s your progress on Spearing’s drive?” Tony asked. Nell and Eric looked at each other, expressions shifting as they had a silent conversation about what to tell him. He folded his arms and waited. 

“We’ve run into a speed bump,” Nell said. 

“It’s not just encrypted; it’s in code, too,” Eric added. “We haven’t been able to make as much progress as we’d like.”

“What do you need to make it happen?” Tony asked.

“We could break it eventually,” Eric said after a moment before looking at Nell. 

“There’s a consultant that the NSA and FBI uses. He’s worked with codes before,” Nell told him. “With him, we’d be able to crack it much faster.”

“So make it happen,” Callen said and Nell turned to her computer to make contact with their consultant. Tony hoped it would mean progress. Their best predictor of where Spearing would be going was finding out where he’d been and what was important to him.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sam told him. Tony nodded.


	12. Chapter 12

Tony strode into the technical operations area, the door automatically swishing open for him, only to stop short. Abby appeared on a life sized display on the screen, arms folded across her chest as she spoke to Eric and Kensi. While she seemed generally unhappy, she didn’t seem overly hostile. He briefly wondered what case they were working on before deciding that discretion was the better part of valour and backing out the room.

“Tony!” Abby said, before he could back up too far and he stopped, looking up at her on the screen. 

“Abby,” he said neutrally, wondering what her reaction would be. He hadn’t spoken to her at all since he’d said his goodbyes in Washington. In fact, the only ones he’s had contact with were phone calls with Jimmy and the occasional exchange of emails with Ducky. 

“What did you do?” Abby demanded, glaring at him. “Everything went wrong!”

Tony aborted a move to pinch the bridge of his nose, not willing to show Abby even that much weakness. There’d been pressure coming in from Washington to put him on the Roosevelt in place of the San Diego agent they’d sent instead. The argument seemed to be that he’d be safer far away from Spearing. The only problem with that was all the other people Spearing might be after that Tony wasn’t going to abandon. That and he didn’t know how far Spearing's reach extended. He didn't want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere without backup if they found out he had more contacts than they'd anticipated. 

“It was wrong for a long while,” Tony told her, folding his arms and not quite meeting her eyes. He hadn’t really expected her support or understanding, not since she hadn’t contacted him during his time in LA, but it still stung for to her to fling accusations at him instead. 

“All you had to do was follow orders!” she said, pointing her finger at him. If they had been in person, he had the feeling she’d be poking him in the chest. “Then everything would have been fine.”

“Historically, ‘just following orders’ hasn’t been a great defence,” he said blandly. Abby gasped in offence, hands clutched at her chest.

“How could you even joke about that!” Abby asked. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply. At one point they’d been good friends, but that had been years ago, even if he hadn’t realised it. He’d known her devotion to Gibbs would supersede everything else, but they’d indulged her in it far too much, indulged her too much altogether. Of course, she was also a grown woman who’d made her own choices. They all had.

“Tony,” Kensi said, interrupting their argument. “I could use a hand closing out that case.” 

“Sure,” Tony said, looking at Abby for a moment longer before turning to Kensi and giving her a nod. Kensi glanced at Eric who nodded as she and Tony turned to leave. 

“Don’t walk away from me!” Abby told him. “I deserve an answer.”

Tony’s pace slowed at the door and he sighed. The sort of answer he had wasn’t anywhere close to what Abby would want to hear. Especially not with what was going through his head at the moment. 

“I’m not sure what’s going on, Abby,” he heard Eric say. “But I don’t think this is the time or the place.”

Kensi gave his shoulder a shove, pushing him through the door. It swished shut behind them. 

“Washington is seriously messed up,” Kensi said and it was obvious she was trying to lighten the mood without prying too much. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Tony said with a shrug, not willing to get pulled into a discussion of his old team. 

“It’s just as well we got a hold of you when we did,” Kensi told him, lightly punching his arm before turning and walking away. Tony shook his head, reluctantly amused and more touched than he was willing to show. 

...

Kensi wasn’t sure what to make of the rather run down apartment block at which she found herself. It certainly wasn’t what she’d expected. Still, she steeled herself as she knocked on the door; sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

“Kensi,” Tony said, opening the door and putting the safety back on his gun before he set it on the table near the door. She couldn’t really blame him for caution given that she didn’t think any of them had been by before and Spearing’s silence after his escape was more than a little worrying. 

“Tony,” she said, pushing her way into the apartment. The go-bag sitting by the front door caught her eye briefly before she forced her gaze to move on only to stop short at the boxes that still weren’t unpacked, piled against one of the sitting room walls.

“I was going to say, ‘I brought some beer, you supply the entertainment’, but you don’t even have a TV,” she continued, turning around to take in the entire place. She could just about see a tiny bathroom and a bedroom that had only a single bed. It was pitiful, really, and made her feel even sorrier for Tony, but it wasn’t going to do for her plans. 

“Sorry I couldn’t oblige the plans I knew nothing about,” Tony said, sounding bemused. Kensi took his faint smile as a positive sign and hooked her arm through his.

“Right, you’re coming with me,” she told him, dragging him from the apartment, waiting only long enough for him to grab his shoulder holster, gun and keys. She took the fact that he didn’t resist as a good sign. 

“What would Deeks say?” Tony asked with a smirk.

Deeks had taken point on making sure Tony was doing all right, that whatever had happened to bring him here wasn’t consuming him. Especially after the accusations she’d seen thrown at him. But Deeks wasn’t around to do that at the moment, and Kensi was deliberately thinking of that only in temporary terms, so she was stepping up for him. Besides, she didn’t want to be alone either. 

“He’d either be ridiculously jealous or want to join in,” Kensi told him with a grin. Tony grinned back and waggled his eyebrows but Kensi knew he wouldn’t take that as an invitation for further. Regardless of his teasing, she hadn’t seen him smile like he had those mornings he’d come in with a spring in his step and she was sure he’d met someone even if he wasn’t telling. 

“Come on,” she said, guiding him to her car. 

In just under half an hour, they were ensconced on her couch, beer in hand and a bowl of popcorn on the seat between them as she flicked through movies before finally settling on one that was only just starting. 

“How’s Deeks?” Tony asked after a moment of hesitation. 

“He just needs time,” Kensi said, but she knew she was reassuring herself as much as Tony. Tony made a murmuring noise of agreement that could have meant anything. She could still see the fading bruise at his temple that was a stark reminder about what the three of them - Deeks, Tony and Sam – had been through. The thought of how shattered Deeks had been by the experience, even if he hadn’t broken and revealed Sam’s wife, still left her feeling hollowed out. She wondered if Tony felt the same.

“Time,” Tony said absently, as though he hadn’t meant to speak at all. He ran his thumb along the neck of the beer bottle and stared without focus at the screen.

“And, when he’s willing to open up, he’s got the team.” He had her, too. He always had her.

“He really doesn’t stand a chance,” Tony said, blinking back into focus and turning to give her a slightly wan smile. 

“You’re one of us too, you know,” she told him. 

“I thought we were supposed to be commiserating about Deeks,” Tony said and she could practically see him squirm uncomfortably at the declaration. She wondered if it was because of what she’d seen earlier, but knew that it would be the last thing he’d want to bring up. She shoved his shoulder.

“We were supposed to be watching a movie.”

“I think I’ve seen it before,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the screen. 

“Good, then we won’t have to rewind.”

...

“Excuse me,” a man said, drawing Tony’s attention. He was shorter than Tony by almost a foot and, with his head ducked down to look at a piece of paper he was holding, all Tony could see of him was a curly mop of hair. “I’m looking for Nell Jones and Eric Beale?”

“Can I help you?” Tony asked, because he wasn’t about to direct a stranger to their analysts without verifying who he is. 

“Oh, of course,” the man said, looking up with a brief smile. He shifted his bag from under his right arm to under his left, crumpling the paper in his hand in the process. “Professor Charlie Eppes.”

“Any relation to Don Eppes?” Tony couldn’t help but ask as he shook the man’s hand.

“You’ve met my brother?”

There were some moments that Tony couldn’t believe that this was his life and wondered if he didn’t have bad luck if he’d have any luck at all. It was just typical that he’d run into Don’s brother, that the two sides of his life he’d been trying to keep separate could be embodied in this one, perilous, man. Especially not when he hadn’t decided what he was going to do about Don. It had seemed so simple, so easy, when he was leaving and looking for anything serious wasn’t in the cards. It was different now. 

“Something like that,” was all Tony was willing to say. “Ops is just up those stairs.”

“Thank you, Agent...” Charlie looked at him with a faint frown, as though trying to remember if Tony had given his name.

“DiNozzo. Tony DiNozzo.”

He figured there wasn’t too much risk in giving his name. Less than making the man suspicious by avoiding the cue entirely. Besides, Charlie undoubtedly knew better than discuss his work with his brother and Don didn’t know his real name anyway. It didn’t stop the unaccountably guilty feeling squirming in his stomach. 

“Let me show you the way,” Tony said, hoping to hurry the man along without being impolite before he could ask any more questions.

“Yes, I should probably get started,” Charlie told him. “I understand there’s some urgency.”

“Nothing like an escaped murderer and gun runner to light a fire under you,” Tony told him with a grin. Charlie gave him a benign smile in return as they climbed the stairs and walked into ops. The professor immediately drew the attention of the two analysts and introductions were quick. It wasn’t long before Charlie was poring over the information.

“So you think it’s a cipher?” he asked. 

“Windtalkers, National Treasure or Imitation Game?” Tony asked, barely holding back a wince when he realised he’d reduced the professor’s insight and years of study to a series of movie references.

“Uh...” Charlie began, looking a little lost.

“Language code, book cipher or substitution cipher,” Nell explained as though the connection he’d made was obvious and logical, which he always felt was the case, but he knew others tended not to. Tony was just relieved he wasn’t going to have to embarrass himself further. As helpful as he found them, he knew movie references tended not to go down well in a professional context.

“I won’t know until I’ve had some time to study it. An idea of what I’m looking at would help enormously,” Charlie said.

“Best we can determine, it’s Spearing’s ledger and contacts,” Nell told him.

“Right,” he said and Tony could practically see the cogs turning in his brain. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something.”

He slid the printouts into his bag and pocketed the thumb drive Nell handed to him. He paused a moment before turning to look at Tony. 

“Do you often piece together discordant facts with movie references?” Charlie asked, giving Tony a considering look, as though he was a formula that wasn’t adding up.

“A good investigator uses whatever tools they have at their disposal,” Tony said with a dismissive shrug, arms folding across his chest. “Even if they’re a little irregular.”

“Hmm,” Charlie said, not divulging his thoughts, then added, “Non-linear thinkers are highly sought after in academia and the private sector.”

Tony shrugged again. He’d had a few offers over the years, usually when one of their cases drew them into the civilian world, but he’d never considered them seriously. Even since he’d stepped foot in the academy, he’d known that being a cop was who he was, not just what he did and he didn’t know what he’d do with a desk job. 

“Not really my thing,” was all he was willing to say. Charlie nodded as though he understood and Tony figured with a Federal Agent as a brother that he just might. 

“Pleasure meeting you Agent DiNozzo,” Charlie said, shaking his hand again.

“You too, Professor,” Tony told him, surprised to find that, despite everything, he meant it. At no point did it seem like he was going to make this whole situation easy on himself.


	13. Chapter 13

Don sighed as stepped out of the elevator onto the floor his apartment was on. It had been a long day and a longer case. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d come to rely on early morning runs and poorly disguised flirting over coffee to maintain his equilibrium until it was gone. He was feeling a little bruised and a lot soul-weary when he noticed the figure leaning against the wall next to his door. He stopped short, feet dragging to a stop, when he realised it was Tony standing there. Tony standing there not on his ship. 

There was a feeling twisting in his chest too complex for him to identify; regret, hope, lust, relief, fear. He couldn’t even tell if he was happy to see him or not. This thing between them was never supposed to be more than what it was. Letting himself get too involved in a lie was never the plan.

“One of your neighbours was kind enough to let me up,” Tony told him. Don was more than a little concerned with the breach in security, but there was little he could do after the fact except inform the body corporate and all they’d do was send a letter around cautioning people. 

“Tony,” he said by way of greeting. 

“Don,” Tony said as he pushed off the wall, stepping into Don’s space. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Don said, looking up into Tony’s amused green eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to step away. 

“There’s been a change of plans,” Tony told him, smirking faintly, just a curl of the corner of his mouth that Don couldn’t help watching. “I’m not leaving any more.”

“Is that so?” Don asked as he looked away long enough to slot his key in the lock and open his door. “What changed your mind?”

“It was changed for me,” Tony said, sounding amused on the surface, but there was something resigned and weary beneath that that he couldn’t help but wonder about. “I...” Tony continued and for a moment he looked vulnerable, cracked open and spilling out, and entirely unlike the Tony Donati he’d come to know. “I didn’t want to go either.”

It might all be an elaborate and carefully calculated game. Don would be the first to admit that he’d made some spectacularly awful decisions when it came to romantic liaisons. But the biggest problem he had with the whole situation was that most of the time Tony didn’t feel like a bad decision. Being with him felt right and easy without the tension and drama of his previous encounters. 

“You don’t owe me any explanations,” Don said, trying to regain some sort of control over his flip-flopping emotions.

“Maybe not,” Tony said, leaning into Don’s space but still not touching him. Don found himself leaning in as well, unable to resist the draw. “But I want to owe them to you.”

Don breathed in shakily. All he could think was it wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. He couldn’t afford to be compromised, not more than he already was. If this was discovered he could lose his job and his reputation. But he’d come back from that before and each time he’d resented the brass more and more.

“I want to tell you everything,” Tony told him, “but I can’t.”

“Can’t?” Not ‘won’t’ or ‘shouldn’t,’ not even a convenient lie that Don would want to believe just so he could pretend to fool himself a little longer.

“Can’t.” Tony smiled a little sharply at him. “I’m sure a big boss FBI agent like you knows all about keeping secrets.”

Something like relief shivered through him, leaving a hollow feeling in its wake. 

“Tony...”

Don scrubbed a hand down his face, not sure he had the emotional wherewithal to deal with this now.

“I should go,” Tony said, stepping back and finally giving Don room to breathe. The space Tony had occupied felt chilled and he shivered a little.

“You probably should,” he agreed. It would be the sensible thing to do. If things ended now, Don could distance himself from any impropriety. Tony watched him for a moment, eyes tracing his features, before he nodded and started to turn.

“You really probably should,” Don said again, before he fisted a hand in Tony’s shirt and pushed him up against the wall. He shifted his weight to hold the other man there, skin just a little too warm where they pressed together, and caught Tony’s soft exhalation of surprise as Don's mouth descended on his. The way Tony yielded so easily to him, the way his reluctant groan seemed to be drawn from the depths of him when Don pressed a thigh between his, ignited a hunger in Don that he wouldn’t know how to deny even if he’d been so inclined. 

“You really should go,” Don told him again, dragging him inside. Tony chuckled softly, eyes alight.

“That would be the intelligent thing to do,” he agreed. The hand gripping Don’s hip held firm even as the other pulled at his shirt in search of skin.

“It would be,” Don said, pulling him closer, shutting the door behind them and pushing Tony up against it. 

“Let me have this. Let me be selfish,” Tony begged against his lips, deft fingers moving to Don’s belt. “Just a little bit, just for a little while.”

It occurred to Don that no part of him knew how to give this up and any ideas he’d had of distancing himself were just idle fantasies. 

“Anything you want,” he breathed, fingers curling in the short hairs at the nape of Tony’s neck and drawing him closer. “It’s yours.”

...

Tony caught Kensi watching him the next morning and wondered what it was about before he realised he was smiling to himself. It took a ridiculous amount of effort to wipe the expression from his face and he could still see her snickering at his attempt. Callen looked between them, bemused, while Sam kept his head down, pretending none of them existed. 

This world he’d built around himself – LA, Don, the team – he knew just how fragile it was, that it might all fall apart around him. As many times as he’d done it in his life, he wasn’t keen to repeat the experience of building it all up again; he didn’t know if he had the energy and will left to forge himself anew. It was a strange but not unwelcome change that for once he seemed to have people fighting for him, not against him. 

“Spill,” Kensi said, sitting on the edge of his desk. He raised an eyebrow in question and she made a scoffing sound. “Don’t give me that. My love life is on hiatus; I have to live vicariously through yours.”

“There’s not all that much to tell,” he said, trying to deflect.

“Oh please,” she said with a snort. “You can lie much better than that.”

He grinned, unable to help himself. His growing fondness for this team, for Deeks, Kensi and Nell specifically, but even Callen, Sam and Erik, was a little worrying. Especially with the way they seemed to see straight through him in such a short time. It seemed to take them no effort at all to read him and part of him couldn’t help but pick at the thought that his old team, Gibbs’ team, had never bothered in the same way like a wound he wouldn’t let heal. 

“She’s gorgeous,” Tony said with a straight face, taking a gamble and poking at the fragile scaffolding of his life. If it wasn’t going to hold, it was better to know now than to be so invested that it was almost impossible to extricate himself later. 

“You aren’t as shallow as you like to pretend, but there’s no reason to date below your attractiveness either,” Kensi said, giving him a thoughtful look as she considered the lie in his words. “So that means she’s... not a she?”

Tony watched with equal amusement and trepidation as Kensi’s expression become increasingly incredulous until she was staring at him with wide eyes. Any further conversation was interrupted by a piercing whistle and Eric calling them all upstairs. Kensi glanced away for a moment before looking back as Tony rose to his feet. He deliberately kept his head up and shoulders back even as he avoided her gaze. 

“Let me know if he needs a shovel talk,” she told him said with a sharp grin as she bumped his shoulder. “I’ve been practising.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tony said dryly, though he couldn’t entirely hide his relief at her reaction. He was also glad that she didn’t push any further. It wasn’t exactly a topic of conversation he was entirely comfortable discussing at work and, he realised a little belatedly, she was the first person he’d actually come out to about his bisexuality. A few of his frat buddies had been made aware after he’d woken up in a compromising position with another guy after a night partying and, after he joined the force, it had just been safer not to advertise. 

They made their way up the stairs in silence and joined Hetty, Nell and Eric in Ops. Callen and Sam joined them not too long after. 

“FBI Assistant Director Holt and I have agreed to the formation of a joint task force until Spearing is apprehended,” Hetty told them without preamble. 

Tony leaned forward, unable to hide his anticipation. It would give him license to tell Don who he really was. It would mean no more lying, not even by omission. Kensi gave him a sidelong look and a raised eyebrow and he shook his head. 

“Ms Jones and Agent Blye will be joining the FBI in their pursuit. Agents Callen and Hanna will continue working on cases as they come in,” Hetty continued. Tony kept silent knowing that she’d come around to him eventually, but he’d already realised that his hopes weren’t going to be realised. “Agent DiNozzo and Mr Beale will continue to work on the Spearing case from this end.”

Tony nodded, jaw clenched around the frustration and disappointment that wanted to escape.

“Why isn’t Tony joining us?” Nell asked curiously, looking from Hetty to him and back again. “His insight could be useful.”

“My cover,” Tony said, interrupting whatever answer Hetty might have given. “It needs to be maintained in the event we need to use it again and we still don’t know who leaked the raid to Spearing.”

After this case, he’d get permission. Don was an agent, a supervisory one at that. If he couldn’t be trusted with Tony’s identity then there weren’t many who could. But Tony knew it wasn’t going to happen while there was a potential leak in his office. 

Kensi nudged his arm and tilted her head in question. Tony shook his head. This wasn’t something he was willing to discuss. He’d been honest enough for one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently Don’s going down with this ship. And so is Tony.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took almost a year, but we’re two-thirds of the way there.

“Where’s Charlie?” Don asked as he shucked out of his jacket, draping it across the back of a chair, and ran a hand though his hair, mussing it up. It had been a fairly easy day all told, what with finishing the case the day before and Tony’s surprise visit that evening. He might not know what the hell he was doing with Tony, even if he could admit that he wasn’t going to stop doing it, but he could admit that it made everything else feel a little bit easier, a little bit brighter and more grounded. This thing they had, he refused to call it a relationship, wasn’t at all like being with Liz or Robin. It wasn’t misunderstandings or missed opportunities; it wasn’t difficult or complicated, not in the same way; and it didn’t make him feel like he’d never be open enough, available enough, good enough... enough in general.

“Perfect timing,” Amita said, smiling at Don as she came out of the kitchen holding a dish of mixed vegetables. “Charlie’s working on something confidential. He was going to eat something on the way.”

When it came to his classified work, Charlie tended not to do it at home where it might be exposed. Not since the garage had been turned into a set of rooms for Alan and Charlie had taken to working in the sitting room, which was much more open to visitors. Usually he’d work at CalSci or on location instead. 

“Let me help you with that,” Don said, taking the dish from her as Alan came out of the kitchen holding what smelled like roast chicken. 

Despite everything, having this, his family all together, was a blessing; unlike how it had been since he was a teenager, when his mother and Charlie had left so that Charlie could go to Princeton and Don himself had headed to UCLA. It was only when Don had come back when his mother was dying and Charlie had started working with him that they’d become a family again. Now, even when things changed, when Charlie got married, they could still all come together again.

“I hope it’s not anything too dangerous,” Alan said, taking a seat next to Don. Amita sat opposite Alan, next to where Charlie usually sat. More often than not, one of them would be absent, but they tried to all get together at least once a week when things were quiet. 

“Just some decoding, I think,” Amita assured him as she started passing around dishes. “He didn’t think it would take more than a couple days.”

When Charlie was finished with that, Don considered that it might be worth dragging him onto the Spearing case. The joint task force would be meeting tomorrow and he’d see what they had then, but in his experience having Charlie’s assistance had only ever helped them.

“That’s good,” Alan said and Don made a noise of agreement as he wondered what it would be like for all them to sit at the table, for his father to sit at the head, with Amita and Charlie on his right and Don and Tony on his left, like it had been with Liz or Robin. He knew it wouldn’t come to pass, it couldn’t, but the thought of it made his chest ache.

He didn’t realise how quite he’d been as he ate, letting the conversation wash over him with only minimal response, until his father nudged him and he looked up to see him and Amita watching with concerned looks. 

“What’s going on with you, Donnie?” Alan asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked, giving his father an innocently neutral look. Not that Alan believed it for a moment, but Don had to at least try. 

At no point was he divulging the whole mess with Tony to his father, least of all because Tony was male. He knew his father didn’t have a problem with it in general, but that was different to being confronted with a son who, as far as Alan would be concerned, was suddenly interested in men. But mostly Don just didn’t want his father’s view of him to change. He didn’t want to have to fight for his acceptance again the way he had when he’d become an agent. 

It wasn’t even that his father would do it because he was bigoted, which he wasn’t. As long as it didn’t have to do with the FBI, Don had met few more accepting people. He’d more than likely be worried about Don’s safety. As many strides as had been made in law enforcement attitudes, there were still those who would never accept a bisexual agent. He had confidence that there weren’t any on his team, but he knew his father still didn’t entirely trust the FBI in a general sense, even if he’d come around to Don and his team. 

“I’m not going to push,” Alan told him, patting his hand before standing and collecting the empty dishes. “I know how stubborn you can be, but you know I’m here when you want to talk.”

“I had to get it from somewhere,” Don said with a laugh as he rose to help. His father snorted and Don knew he wouldn’t be willing to argue that point when it only implicated him.

“In my experience, Eppes men are all blessed with a certain tenacity,” Amita said with a laugh of her own. 

...

Tony found himself watching Professor Charlie Eppes at work. It was always a marvel to watch an expert in their field, but there was something graceful about Charlie in math-mode that seemed to elude him otherwise. He wondered idly if the professor had ever learned to play an instrument, or if Don had. Don certainly had the hands for music; long, deft fingers that could be just at home plucking guitar strings as pulling triggers.

He spun a little in Nell’s seat and watched as Charlie used a stylus to write equations across the large screen in Ops, his untidy scrawl at odds with what Tony was sure must be elegant mathematics. The professor was frowning faintly as he focused on his work and, for a moment, Tony could see the similarity to Don when he was puzzling something out. Usually Tony. 

Charlie had made some headway with interpreting some of the information. The ledger had been the most straightforward given the nature and uniformity of the information, but the rest was taking longer. Charlie had ruled out most ciphers fairly early on given the format of the code they had, but that didn’t really help narrow down what text he might be using for a book cipher. Tony turned back to Nell’s screen and scanned over the photographs the crime scene guys had taken of Spearing’s bar, office and home. 

He pushed the chair away from the desk and leaned back, resting his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. The sounds of the office filtered through, but it was only the tapping of Eric at his keyboard and Charlie’s shuffle as he moved. 

“Tony, what -” he heard Eric ask, followed by Charlie shushing him.

“I’m in my mind palace,” Tony said and grinned briefly without opening his eyes. Eric and Charlie continued a discussion but he wasn’t paying attention any more. Usually he’d be doing this in a busy bullpen or waiting for Gibbs to come up and headslap him, but he knew that wouldn’t happen here. 

He visualised Spearing’s spaces. He’d held court at his bar, but that’s all it was, the public face of his business, the place where his power was its most overt. It wasn’t where he’d dealt with the minutiae. The majority of that kind of work seemed to be done in either his work office or home office. There had been bookcases at both locations, but no matching books. The ones at the office had been geared toward the appearance of intellectual superiority and, from what he’d seen of the man, he figured Spearing thought he was cleverer than most people. The books at his home office were more personal choices, the spines had been cracked and the pages dog-eared. 

“He has a framed article,” Tony said suddenly. “At both his work and home.”

“I think that’s in one of the photos,” Eric said, bringing up the image. 

It definitely wasn’t clear enough to get any detail of the article itself, but it gave them a headline from one of the small, local newspapers and Eric had the article up on screen in less than five minutes. As he scanned through the content, Tony couldn’t help but feel sick at the pandering it did to Spearing’s charity work. It was exactly the kind of irony Spearing would revel in.

Eric minimised the article and pulled up the evidence log of the contents of his office, searching through it quickly. Tony wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he seemed to have purpose.

“He had a folder in his desk,” Eric told them, turning from the screen to grin at them in triumph. “Of articles about himself.”

“I can work with that,” Charlie said with a decisive nod, his eyes already distant and he contemplated whatever solutions he’d use to decode the entries. “I’ll need copies of them all, organised by date.”

Eric nodded, already reaching to make the call. 

...

Don smiled to himself as he tossed his keys into the air. The night before with Tony might have been extremely enjoyable, but nothing settled him like time with his family, whatever other issues he might currently have. 

Amita had always fitted right in with the family, slipping into a gap they hadn’t even realised they had, like she was made to fit, and he felt privileged to have her as a sister-in-law. But that didn’t stop the ache in his chest when he saw what she and Charlie had, what he thought he could have with Robin. With hindsight he realised they’d both only reached for that connection because they were worried it would pass them by otherwise, but what they’d had had been more comfortable than anything else. 

He was just about to slot his key in to open his car door when a noise distracted him. It was a sound that was barely there, just a shuffle of footsteps against the gravel, but he was already on edge with everything that was going on. Just as he turned, the agonising pain of an electrical charge swept through his body. His muscles spasmed and locked up, and he dropped to the ground with a pained whine. 

His body wouldn’t cooperate enough to shift away from the cause of his pain, never mind reaching for his gun or even calling out for help. He grunted when hands reached to pat him down, removing his gun, cell phone and wallet, before he was roughly lifted and dropped into the back of a van.

He shifted, rolling onto his stomach and trying to push himself to his knees when those hands yanked his arms out from under him. He fell with a grunt, his head hitting the grimy metal floor of the van, and couldn’t do more than futilely struggle when his hands were pinned behind his back and bound too tightly with tape. A cloth bag was shoved over his head and then he was left alone, the presence of at least two men looming over him.

“You’re making a mistake,” he managed to say, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “I’m an FBI Agent. This isn’t something you want to do.”

“We know who you are,” one of the men told him, aiming a kick at his side and Don curled up protectively. 

“Shut up,” another said, and this time the kick was aimed at his head. He drew in further, bound hands curling around his head, and kept his silence. He needed to survive long enough to call help or get away. Because Don might have made more than a few enemies, but he also tried to keep track of them, and the only immediate threat was Spearing. If this was Spearing then, whoever Tony was, whatever role he was playing, he was in danger too.


	15. Chapter 15

Charlie was surprised to still see Don’s car when he pulled up. He’d expected Don to head home hours ago but sometimes, after a long day when he didn’t want to be alone, Don stayed over. Not that Don ever phrased it that way, he was just reluctant when he made to leave and didn’t argue too much when someone insisted it was too late or he’d had a little too much to drink, and it was better that he stay. Honestly, it made Charlie feel better to be able to offer his brother something in place of haunted dreams and sleepless nights, that the connection they’d forged from years of working together was still in place.

He paused as he passed Don’s car and knelt down to look at something. Don’s keys glinted in the light of the street lamp and he felt dread settle cold and hard in his stomach. He hoped it was just a misunderstanding but, as much as he wanted to think otherwise, the house wasn’t an inviolate space. Crimes had taken place there that he wouldn’t ever be able to forget. He hurried inside to see Amita sitting in the living room, laptop across her legs as she sat cross-legged on the couch. 

“Is Don here?” he asked as she looked up.

“No,” she said, frowning in confusion. “He left over an hour ago.”

He immediately pulled out his phone and dialled Liz’s number. She’d been promoted to Don’s second ever since David had gone to Washington and they worked well together, despite their past. Charlie had been a little surprised they didn’t rekindle their relationship when Robin left Don, but Don had changed, closed himself off even more when it came to matters of the heart. It was only recently that something of the old Don had started showing through again. 

“His car’s still here,” Charlie told her, waiting for Liz to pick up.

“Agent Warner.”

“Don’s missing,” he told her. “He’s been missing for more than an hour.”

“Shit! We need you to come in,” she said. “I’ll call in the task force.”

“You know who has him?” 

“We have a pretty good idea,” Liz said, her voice becoming distant from the phone for a moment before coming back in. “We could use your help on this.”

“Of course,” Charlie agreed quickly as he headed back out to his car. He’d have to explain to NCIS what was going on, but he’d never even considered the alternative. “How bad is it?”

Amita entered the passenger side as Charlie climbed in the driver's. He glanced at her, but she just looked determined, laptop clutched to her chest, and he knew better than to try to persuade her otherwise. He relaxed a little having her by his side. She made him better, caught the things he missed, matched his weaknesses with strength and grace. He didn't know who he'd be without her.

“We’ll find him,” Liz told him with quiet confidence, even if Charlie could hear the worry beneath that. As much as Charlie liked her, or possible because of it, he’d always thought she and Don had been much better friends than they had lovers. 

“Who are we working with?” Charlie asked as he put the phone on hands free, started the car and headed for the FBI offices. “LAPD?”

“NCIS.”

“Uh.”

“Something you want to tell me, Professor?” Liz asked, something hard and determined entering her voice and this was why she was Don’s second in command. He heard a door slam on her end and assumed she was on the move as well.

“Please don’t tell me Caleb Spearing has him,” Charlie said, a little desperate. He’d spent the afternoon looking at the files NCIS had on the man and there wasn’t a single one that didn’t end awful and full of blood. The thought of Don in the hands of someone like that left him cold. 

“You’ve been working with them,” Liz guessed. Charlie didn’t bother to confirm it. “Agent Blye and Analyst Jones will be working with us.”

“Not Agent DiNozzo?” Charlie asked, because it had seemed like the man was right in the middle of the case and they’d need everyone on board to find Don.

“No,” Liz said, sounding a little confused. Charlie shook his head even though she couldn’t see. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Charlie said. As much as he trusted the team and knew they’d come through, he would have preferred all hands for this. "Don's going to be okay."

Amita briefly squeezed his hand and he could almost believe his own words. 

...

They’d all been called in when news came in about Agent Eppes’ abduction. Kensi and Nell had headed over the FBI offices, while Eric and Tony had stuck around NCIS. Not that there was much Tony could do from there, but it was better than no news at all. He’d gone through the files again, sent out feelers to the few contacts he had in LA, but hadn’t come across any new leads or anything really that he hadn’t uncovered on his own time over the last few weeks. Now he was just waiting to hear back from his contacts. 

He paced Ops, waiting and frustrated that he couldn’t be involved in the search for Don, not like Nell and Kensi. It wouldn’t even matter if he told them why he wanted to be; the reasons for his exclusion were still the same and telling them would only add more. He ignored the way Eric kept glancing in his direction before he turned back to trawling through traffic cameras, looking for anything in the areas surrounding the Professor’s house. 

“Tony?” Eric asked softly and Tony stopped and turned to look at him. The analyst seemed more than a little unsure about how to proceed. “You seem... tense...”

“I’m fine,” Tony told him, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “I just don’t like the idea of one of our guys in his hands. Eppes is a good guy doing a good job.”

He also liked old movies and sports. He put up with Tony singing in the shower and laughed at his jokes. He made the best noises when Tony bit the inside of his thigh and knew exactly how to touch Tony to make him fall apart. 

Tony wasn’t sure he could do this.

When his phone rang, he answered it immediately and walked out of Ops so that he didn’t interrupt Eric any further, so that Eric couldn’t question him further. 

“DiNozzo,” he said, more than a little curtly.

“Tony.”

“Sorry Jimmy,” Tony said, reining in his emotions. He breathed in deeply and then exhaled slowly. At no point did Jimmy deserve Tony’s worst side. “There’s a lot going on here.”

“I’ll call back later,” Jimmy told him.

“No,” Tony said quickly. He could use the distraction when there wasn’t anything more he could do and all he could think about was hearing that they’d found Don dead. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“Yeah, well, things have been a little crazy here, too,” Jimmy told him with a bit of a laugh. 

“Tell me about it,” he said a little desperately. Jimmy paused, obviously hearing that something was wrong with him but then, because he was amazing and a better friend than Tony deserved, he didn’t question it. 

“McGee’s been looking at the FBI and NSA since Gibbs let them take the hit meant for him and resigned. I think he thought Gibbs would have his back and Vance wouldn’t let him go,” Jimmy said. 

Tony winced. McGee might be good at doing his thing, but he’d done it with impunity for years and garnered more than a little negative attention for it. Before, Gibbs would have had his back, but Tony wasn’t entirely surprised that, when his back was against the wall, Gibbs had let the team down. It had happened to Tony after Jenny and after Rivkin; he guessed he just always thought it was a fault in himself, that he’d failed somehow, because Gibbs was supposed to live by ‘Semper Fi’. He knew better now. 

“He’ll land on his feet,” Tony said, because the private sector would be more than happy to take him and he always had his writing career to fall back on. It’d mean he wouldn’t have to divide his focus any more, which could be a good thing for him.

“And Ziva’s gone back to Israel,” Jimmy told him. “She left under a bit of a cloud after the whole Bodnar thing. After Rivkin and everything as well, it doesn’t look like they’ll be letting her back any time soon.”

Tony wanted to feel sorry for her. He knew how much being in America had meant to her. But she’d made her choices, repeatedly. As much as the opportunity had meant to her, she hadn’t been able to leave her past behind or outrun her father’s shadow. 

“I’m surprised Gibbs and Vance let that happen.”

“They’re dealing with their own stuff at the moment.”

“I think that’s going around,” Tony said dryly.

“Anything I can help with?” Jimmy asked and Tony sighed, ridiculously grateful for his friendship.

“Not really, but thanks Jimmy, really,” Tony told him. Even if he was here, Jimmy wouldn’t be able to help him with Don and Spearing, but he appreciated the thought and even just talking to Jimmy had helped centre him.

“Any time,” Jimmy said and Tony knew he meant that. 

“Tell me about you and Breena,” Tony said, because he was done with Gibbs’ team. 

“We’re good,” Jimmy said and Tony could almost hear the grin in his voice. He breathed in and tried not to think about what he wasn’t doing to help Don. 

...

Don suppressed a shiver as the cold of the warehouse leached his body heat. They’d brought him straight here and bound him to a metal chair that was bolted to the floor, but only after removing his jacket, shoes and socks. The intent, he knew, was to strip away a physical barrier to leave him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He been in worse situations and he knew he had his team at his back. 

He knew they would be looking for him and that they’d drag Charlie into it too, not that they’d be able to keep his brother away from it if they tried. Between them, Don trusted that they’d find him. It was just a matter of making sure he lasted long enough for them to do that.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d been left alone. Hours, surely. Long enough for him to start feeling tired beyond the adrenaline charging through his system. The sound of footsteps echoed around the room and Don tensed, trying to prepare himself as they drew closer to him. The footsteps stopped right in front of him and he held himself still, barely breathing, as he waited for something to happen. He sensed movement and then a hand was at his head, pulling away the hood. 

“Agent Eppes.”

“Spearing.”

The man looked at him with dispassionate eyes and Don glared back.

“You’ve made a mistake,” Don told him. “Kidnapping a Federal Agent is more trouble than you want.”

“How does it feel to know you’ve been consorting with the enemy,” Spearing asked with a sneer as he started to circle Don. Don didn’t give him the satisfaction of trying to twist to keep him in sight, no matter how much he wanted to.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he told Spearing, the tone of his voice calm and in control even if he wasn’t feeling it. He didn’t let himself think about Tony, about his speculations, because that would be hazardous. It would only put Tony in more danger and everything in him was screaming not to let that happen, not to be responsible for that.

The sharp tattoo of footsteps on concrete behind him stopped for a moment, before it drew closer to him. It was enough warning not to flinch when Spearing suddenly gripped his shoulders tightly and leaned in, looming over him from behind. 

“How does it feel to have betrayed everything you stand for?” Spearing asked. Don didn’t need to turn his head to see the smirk; he could hear the smug triumph in his voice. “You’re here because of him, you know? Because everything only went bad when he showed up.”

Spearing seemed to take Don’s silence as acknowledgement and chuckled as he moved away to continue his circling. Don was willing to give a little now if it meant survival in the long run. And antagonising the criminal that had you at his mercy was not conducive to survival. So he kept his silence no matter how much he wanted to tell Spearing what he really thought.

“I want you to know that if he’d stayed away, if he hadn’t involved you, you wouldn’t be here right now,” Spearing told him, tone and expression falsely sympathetic. 

Still Don kept his silence. Even if he was so inclined, Don knew betraying Tony wouldn’t change his circumstances. Don knew about Spearing, knew enough about where he was to track back to it if he was let go, and Spearing wasn’t known for his mercy to those in his control. 

His team would find him, he knew that much, and they had a good track record of getting there before it was too late. He tried very hard not to think about what Tony would do, whether he would risk getting involved or not. It would decide things one way or the other. If Don lived long enough.

“The thing is,” Spearing told him, changing tacks when it was clear his previous line of taunting wasn’t getting to him. “It doesn’t matter if you hold out or if you spill everything. Nothing you do from here-on-out makes any difference at all. I just need you here. Everything else is a bonus.”

He recognised the tactic for what it was, recognised that it was about making him lose hope, making him lose the will to fight, but that didn’t mean on some level it didn’t work. If nothing he did made a difference, then there was no point to doing anything, nothing except stubborn pride and sheer disagreeableness. 

“How does it feel to have lost everything?” Don asked. He wasn’t too surprised by the backhand that left him blinking away spots from his eyes. From the metallic taste on his tongue, he knew he’d cut his mouth and he smiled, all bloody teeth.


	16. Chapter 16

It had been almost a day and they hadn’t come any closer to finding Don. He wasn’t at any of the properties connected to either Spearing or Spearing’s associates. Spearing wasn’t using money from any of the accounts they had knowledge of, not even the ones mentioned in the ledger. Wherever they were, it was completely off grid. 

If Spearing was keeping Don alive, it was to toy with him and Spearing’s interest wouldn’t be held for very long. They had to find Don and soon, or the worst would come to pass and Tony couldn’t let that happen without doing something to stop it. 

He’d been in the middle of some target practice, hoping to alleviate some of his pent up frustration, when he'd reached the end of his tether. He'd tried to let them do their thing, he'd followed orders, but his cover wasn't worth an Agent's life, it wasn't worth Don's. Sam had told him not to do anything stupid in pursuit of Spearing, but that was before Don, so Tony was willing to amend that to not doing anything too stupid. It seemed a fair compromise to him, even if he was sure the team wouldn’t see it that way. 

“Agent DiNozzo,” Hetty said, coming up behind him. It was only the swish of the automatic doors coming into Ops that had warned him of her approach and he didn’t jump when she spoke. 

“Hetty.”

“Is there a reason why you are checking out comms gear?” she asked with a gesture to the earbud and pen-look-alike receiver and transmitter he’d set aside.

“I was going to keep Nell, and the task force, informed at every step,” he told her, because he was willing to be reckless, not suicidal. And he knew from experience that going off half-cocked, without backup, was monumentally stupid and likely to get not only him killed, but Don too. Never let it be said that Tony couldn’t learn from his own or others’ mistakes.

“Before or after you were in the field?” Hetty asked, arms folded and eyebrows raised in question. 

“After,” he admitted candidly. It was quite obvious that he hadn’t planned on being caught out, so there was no point in lying. Besides, Eric was having his first nap in about 40 hours as he waiting for the results of a search and Tony wasn’t going to bother him until it was necessary. 

“Hmm,” was all she said to that. He met her gaze steadily.

“I can’t do nothing.”

Her gaze turned shrewd and he didn’t know if she knew about him and Don or if she just appeared that way in the hopes of getting him to reveal something. 

“And if I said everything that can be done is being done?” Hetty asked, unfolding her arms in a bid to seem more approachable, less austere. Tony wondered if the gesture was genuine or practised or if he was just far too cynical these days. 

“I’d tell you that we both know that isn’t true.”

She ‘hmm’ed again and he waited. The silence drew on, growing awkward before she finally saw whatever it was she was looking for, possibly just sheer stubborn drive, and conceded with a nod. 

“You keep us informed every step of the way,” she insisted.

“Of course,” he agreed easily. He wasn’t planning to John McClane it. This wasn’t about him at all, it was about Don and getting him back. He pressed the bud into his ear but didn’t activate it just yet. Both cellphones were placed on the table, DiNozzo’s and Donati’s. His gun came next, though he kept the knife. He pulled his badge from his belt and stared at it for a moment, feeling the weight of it like he did before every operation, before he placed it next to the phones. 

He turned to go then, more comfortable with having permission than begging forgiveness when it was all over. As much as it had sneaked up on him, he’d found a good thing here, he had people he could rely on in the field and trust out of it. That wasn’t something he was easily willing to risk.

“Oh, and one last thing Agent DiNozzo,” Hetty said, making him turn. She jabbed a device against his shoulder and there was a hiss then a sharp pain. “Sub-dermal tracker.”

He worried a little that the thought of his tiny, paranoid and manipulative boss was now bordering on fond. 

...

Nell checked her phone when it chimed with a message and stared wide-eyed for a moment before nudging Kensi.

“Tony says he’s got a plan and to tune in to comms,” she said quietly. Kensi gave her a quick nod before turning to the rest of the task force. 

They’d been strangers yesterday, but for all that Kensi felt like she knew them well. They had a smart-mouthed ex-cop and an army ranger who’d gone a little too deep undercover. There was also Liz Warner, who knew where she stood and what she wanted, who, according to gossip, had been involved with Agent Eppes and hadn’t let it affect her ambition or her work. Kensi might have been identifying a little overly much with her. 

Charlie and Amita had been charming and scarily intelligent. Kensi had maybe understood a quarter of what they said, but they were quick with an apt analogy, something the FBI seemed to expect with a certain fond anticipation, and she could see what made them such good teachers. Which was where Amita had returned after a short amount of sleep, despite her reluctance. Despite the circumstances, it wouldn’t do to have both of them cancel classes, so Amita had gone to cover them, leaving Charlie ensconced with the FBI team. 

“We’ve got a CI who’s willing to set himself up to meet Spearing,” Kensi told them. “He’s wearing a transmitter and a tracker.”

She glanced at Charlie who frowned, but didn’t say anything. Tony was a common name and she hoped he assumed it was just a coincidence. 

“And you can trust him?” Warner asked. 

Kensi nodded, not sure she could sound anything but confident in that assertion if she spoke, Tony was one of theirs now and that meant he was family, but blind confidence in a CI was never clever. She watched as Nell tapped away at her laptop, logging into her link to the office and pulling up Tony’s channel. 

“We’re reading you,” Nell said.

“Good to know,” Tony said softly, his voice a little muffled and Kensi knew he was disguising talking to himself. 

“Donati,” Warner said without betraying surprise. “What exactly is the plan?”

“You want Spearing,” Tony told her. “Spearing wants me.”

“What exactly do you get out of this?” Warner continued, skeptical of his supposed altruism. Kensi couldn’t really blame her, even if she knew Tony wasn’t going to betray them. She wouldn’t want to leave a team mate’s, or someone who’d been a lot closer than that once, fate in someone else’s hands. 

“Someone has to step into the gap when you take him down,” Tony said with just the right hint of amusement and condescension that Warner curled her lip in a sneer and turned away in disgust. Kensi had to admire his quick thinking and wondered if that was something Hetty was considering having him do. Having someone embedded locally could prove useful. 

“Where is he?” Kensi asked.

“Coffee shop a few blocks from his apartment,” Nell told her, sending the information to Kensi’s phone and then routing the audio through to it as well. 

“Let’s go,” Warner told them, but the entire team was already up and moving, with the exception of Nell and Charlie, who’d have more resources coordinating from the office. 

“I’ll work on traffic analysis to get you there by the fastest route possible,” Charlie said without looking up, tapping away at his own laptop. 

“Anthony Donati,” a voice said, coming from Tony’s end, though it barely stopped them in their preparations. Kensi grabbed the vest Granger handed to her and strapped it on without comment. 

“Can I help you?” 

“FBI Agent Allen,” the man said and Warner looked at the other two FBI agents before they all shook their heads. That wasn’t anyone they knew, but it could have easily been either a fake name or someone impersonating an agent.

“And your friend?” Tony asked, letting them know there were two people. 

“My partner, Agent Miller,” the man calling himself Allen said. 

“What can I do for you, Agents Allen and Miller?”

“You do seem to like this coffee shop,” Allen observed casually. “You come here almost every day.”

“You’ve been observing me,” Tony said with a carefully measured voice as the team headed down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

“It wasn’t difficult,” the man said. There was a pause. 

“The cameras, of course. I’m not sure that’s entirely legal.”

Kensi was definitely going to have a talk with him about being an idiot. He knew better than to have an obvious and predictable routine. If he’d made himself vulnerable for this man he’d been seeing, she didn’t care how gorgeous Tony thought he was, she was going to kick his ass.

“You were a person of interest in the case.”

“You’re one of Eppes’ agents, aren’t you? I think I saw you when I was questioned.”

“We have some more questions for you,” the agent said. It didn’t make Kensi feel any better knowing that Tony knew this was a trap, that he’d prepared for it. 

“He’s actually one of ours?” Granger asked, exchanged a look with the other FBI agents. Warner frowned and Betancourt looked ready to hit something.

“Must be using a fake name,” Betancourt said. “We’re so taking this guy down.”

“Let me call my lawyer,” Tony said. “Have him meet us there.”

“If you like,” the agent offered easily, setting them all on edge. “They’re just routine questions though, some follow up on what you witnessed.”

“All right,” Tony agreed and they could hear him standing up. Kensi felt a small amount of relief when Granger started the SUV and they headed out. They needed to be there now.

...

Tony had a lot of practice playing clueless, so it wasn’t too difficult to pull a cloak of cautious concern around him when they entered the warehouse district near the docks. He was wryly amused that it wasn’t all that far away from the boat house. 

“This isn’t the FBI building,” he said, injecting enough nervousness in his voice that the man next to him, identified as Miller, grinned viciously. He tuned out the chatter of the team as they strategised on the move; he couldn’t afford to let them distract him. 

“No, it isn’t,” Allen said just as Miller drew a gun, pointing it at him. Tony resisted rolling his eyes. If he wasn’t here voluntarily with the team converging on his position, he might have felt a little intimidated. 

“Who are you people?” Tony demanded, but Miller just pushed him out of the car when they stopped and Allen led them through a warehouse that hadn’t been on any of their files on Spearing. Miller gave him a light shove into a sparse room with two chairs in the middle, one of which was bolted to the ground. In it sat a man, bowed over. From his profile and messy hair, Tony could tell that it was Don and exhaled his relief, because Don’s chest was rising and falling with every breath and that was all that mattered. Miller patted him down quickly then, taking his knife and transmitter pen; the latter of which was actually a relief since it meant he could talk to Don without the others listening ins. 

“Spearing wants a word with you,” Allen said as Miller pushed Tony into the other chair, zip-tying his hands and feet to the chair. Allen and Miller left him alone with Don then.

“Don,” he said urgently, trying to rouse him. “Come on, Don. I need you to look up.”

The man in question groaned and stirred a little, shifting in his seat and trying to pull his arms out of his bonds.

“It’s okay,” Tony assured him and Don looked up, squinting at him in confusion. His face was a mass of darkening bruises and Tony winced. “Your team is on their way. They’re coming for you.”

“What are you doing here?” Don asked, voice slurring. “Spearing will kill you.”

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun,” Tony told him, trying for a smile. 

“Not my idea of fun,” Don said, rolling his eyes.

“Tony, they’re five minutes out,” Nell said in his ear. 

“When we get out of here, we can have some fun together,” Tony suggested. Don watched him with a steady gaze and Tony could feel the pit of his stomach drop out because this wasn’t a side of Don he’d seen before. “Don?”

The door opened, interrupting them, and Tony turned to see Spearing silhouetted in the light spilling through the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe we broke 1000 kudos. You guys have given me such an amazing response to this story, so I really do want to thank you all for your encouragement and support. 
> 
> BTW, can anyone recommend any good Photoshop CS2 or CS3 tutorials? I’d love to dabble in creating banners and have no idea how to get started.


	17. Chapter 17

“This is all because of you,” Spearing told Tony. 

“Normally I’m happy to claim credit when I do something well, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony said, watching Spearing carefully. 

“It doesn’t matter if you deny it, I just wanted you to know why you’re here.”

“Because my sparkling personality and good looks are irresistible?” Tony asked with a cheeky grin, keeping half an eye on Don as he watched Spearing move into the room. Spearing came to stand in front of him and stare for a long moment, not bothering to address Tony’s rhetorical question. 

“You keep looking at me like that and you’ll have to buy me dinner,” Tony continued, because he had to get Spearing engaged and talking for the next few minutes, not uncommunicative and prepared to do them some serious damage. In Tony’s experience, yelling and angry was better than quiet and composed when it came to bad guys. Anger wanted to be fed; composure wouldn’t be deterred. 

“You should never have tried to go up against me,” Spearing told him, stepping away and turning to Don. He gripped Don tightly and tilted his head back, fingers pressing into the already bruised flesh of his face and neck.

“You’ve already kidnapped a Federal Agent,” Don said slowly, like talking was taking him extra effort. “You don’t want to add murder to that.”

Don blinked a few times, like he was having trouble focusing and Tony was more than a little worried about the amount of injury Spearing might have already done him. He couldn’t afford to let him do more.

“I still know a good lawyer,” Tony said, struggling to maintain a lighthearted tone that he knew infuriated people more than angry threats ever did. “I can give you his number.”

“You took away everything I cared about,” Spearing told him. “So I’m going to do the same to you.”

Tony forced himself not to pay attention to way Don tried to jerk out of Spearing’s grasp but simply didn’t have the leverage, how he winced as the movement put a strain on his injuries. He forced himself not to see Don at all as he looked as Spearing.

“Go ahead,” he said with a casual shrug. “You’ll be setting my plans back a month, but it wouldn’t take all that much to get to this point again.”

“You’re lying,” Spearing said, fingers tightening until Don flinched, but couldn’t get away.

“How many years and all you got was an Analyst? In less than a month, I had a Supervisory Special Agent,” Tony told him with a superior smirk. He could guess what Don would think of the conversation, but he didn’t dare look at him to judge. 

Allen had been one of them, one of Don’s, even if he wasn’t on Don’s team specifically. Tony knew what it was like to learn that one of your own was playing for the other side and a betrayal like that never truly went away. 

“You know,” he added conversationally. “Nicki was really the key to whole thing.” 

It was a good thing she was safe with the Marshals and well away from everything going on here or he wouldn’t ever have mentioned her, but there was nothing else likely to rile up Spearing in the same way. Not when Spearing had worn away her sense of self until she’d barely been able to be anything but what he wanted. Besides, he rather thought she’d be proud of the fact that her standing up for herself might just save someone else from Spearing.

“She was so easy to turn, too. A few words, a couple promises, and she was eating right out of my hand,” Tony told him. Spearing growled and released Don, lunging at Tony instead. Tony only had time for a moment’s relief before Spearing was on him. There was nothing Tony could do to defend himself when Spearing punched him once, twice, and was pulling back for a third when Don interrupted.

“Hey, dick head,” he said. Spearing paused in his strike and held still, not turning to look at Don. “Not you, Spearing. You’re not half as good as you think you are, Donati.”

Tony used the distraction to head-butt Spearing and the other man stumbled back, clutching his nose. 

“I’m better,” Tony said with a fierce grin, not willing to decipher the turmoil of emotions he felt at Don’s words just yet. Not until later, when it wouldn’t distract him and get them both killed. 

“You’re nothing,” Spearing yelled, grabbing a fist full of Tony’s shirt and drawing in close. “And no one is going to mourn what’s left of you when I’m done.”

“You’re already done,” Tony said, glaring right into Spearing’s eyes, making sure his attention was on him and not Don. “All it took was a few whispers in the right ears and everything you built came crumbling down. Just in time for me to step right on in to the gap.”

Spearing drew his gun and aimed it at Tony’s head and Tony stared evenly at him, wondering if this was finally it; if this was the time he wouldn’t be able to talk himself out of it and backup wouldn’t get there in time. 

“Even if you kill us and get away, my team will never stop looking for you,” Don said, frowning as he clearly struggled to keep his focus on Spearing. Spearing turned, shifting his aim to Don. 

The door burst open, simultaneously revealing Don’s team and causing Spearing to move closer to Don, holding the gun to his temple. Tony was caught between relief as them finally arriving and worry at what Spearing’s desperation might cause him to do.

“Put the gun down, Spearing,” Warner said, moving cautiously into the room, the other members of Don’s team and Kensi following after her. 

“I’ll kill him,” Spearing threatened, moving to crouch behind Don’s chair to present a smaller target. 

“Go ahead, Spearing,” Tony taunted. “And when they gun you down, I’ll be ready to step into that gap.”

“Why won’t you just shut up,” Spearing growled and shifted his aim to Tony, the sound of a gunshot loud in the small room. Kensi moved as soon as Spearing did, jumping in front of Tony just as the shot went off, while Warner and Granger both fired at Spearing. When Spearing went down, gun clattering to the floor, it was almost anti-climatic, but Tony was more worried about Kensi and Don.

“Agent Blye?” Tony said, specifically using her surname to maintain the distance a CI should have from the agents he worked for, and leaned forward as much as he was able to see if Kensi was all right. He was relieved when he didn’t immediately see any blood. 

“I’m just peachy,” Kensi said, rolling over onto her back and pressing a hand to her chest where the bullet had hit her vest. 

“Don,” Warner said, kneeling in front of the man and waiting for him to meet her gaze. Granger moved behind him and cut his bindings. Betancourt leaned down to check Spearing’s pulse, declared that he was dead, and then left to guide the paramedics. Tony looked up to see Don watching him, his expression blank except for the deep frown of pain. 

Warner followed Don’s gaze and frowned as she looked between the seated men. Tony forced his gaze away. As much as Tony wanted to go to Don, to make sure he was all right for himself, he knew he couldn’t. He didn’t know Hetty’s plans for his cover, or whether Spearing’s associates had been caught. He especially didn’t know what Don wanted. 

Kensi climbed slowly to her feet and moved to cut Tony’s own bindings, since the FBI agents were understandably more concerned with their boss. He rubbed at his wrists and rose to his feet, glad to be able to move again. 

“You okay?” Kensi asked softly and Tony nodded. It wasn’t the first, or even most traumatic, time he’d faced death. And he’d learned to take a punch or two over the years. Besides, he wasn’t the one who’d been in Spearing’s hands for almost a day. Betancourt returned with paramedics in tow and they headed straight for Don, immediately checking his reaction and pupil dilation. 

“I’m fine,” Don said, trying to wave them away, but Tony noticed he hadn’t tried to stand yet and that didn’t bode well.

“Sir, you have a concussion,” the medic said, moving to press his abdomen, checking for further injuries. Don couldn’t hide a flinch and moan when the paramedic touched a sensitive spot. “And cracked, possibly broken, ribs.”

“Come on, Don,” Warner said. “Don’t be stubborn.”

As understanding and magnanimous as he wanted to be, there was a part of Tony that couldn’t shake the jealousy that wormed its way into his heart as he watched the former couple. It should have been him persuading Don; it should have been him Don was turning to. Except that, even if he could reveal himself, he didn’t know where they stood.

Despite his grumbling, Don let the paramedics guide him to a gurney and wheel him away. As much as Tony didn’t want to find out things might be over, he knew they’d have to have a conversation as some point, if only because he didn’t want to potentially poison things between the two agencies in the future. 

Tony turned away from watching Don to see Warner watching him in turn. He raised an eyebrow to which she did the same, smirking knowingly. He hesitated and then decided he just didn’t have the emotional resources to deal with whatever she was inferring at the moment.

“Did you get Allen and Miller?” he asked instead. She shook her head.

“They weren’t here,” Warner told him. “We’ll need you to identify them.”

“Allen worked in your office, I’m assuming it was a fake name?” he asked. Warner nodded and he knew he’d be looking through FBI personnel for at least part of the night. “I don’t know about Miller, never saw him before today.”

“We’ll need you to come in,” Warner said and he nodded tiredly.

“Not before you’ve been checked out, Donati,” Kensi interrupted. “Neither of us wants to deal with the consequences if you aren’t.”

He was almost grateful that he wouldn’t have to deal with Don’s team just yet. It would give him a chance to compose himself. He let Kensi grab his elbow and draw him away. Warner looked faintly amused by the entire encounter.

“He’d better be worth it,” Kensi muttered as she led him away. He was, but Tony wasn’t going to tell her that, not when he would never live it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went to see Fast and Furious 8 and had an idea for another part of Wayward Youths, but I kept writing this instead. You’re welcome :p


	18. Chapter 18

Don stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep despite the medication they’d given him and having been awake for almost two days. He breathed steadily and tried to ignore the thoughts whirling around his head. It had been an eventful few days between finding out Tony was staying in LA and everything with Spearing. 

He had no idea how he felt about any of it, about being taken by Spearing, about Tony, but he was still relieved to see him when Tony slipped silently into his hospital room. There were stitches at the other man’s temple, but he smiled at Don when their gazes met, even if it was a little hesitant and unsure of his reception. Don gestured to the seat next to his bed, grateful that he had a private room so no one would overhear their conversation. 

“Your guy at the door could use a dose of paranoia,” Tony said, looking away from Don and to the window. “He shouldn’t trust anyone just because they’ve got a Federal ID.”

“I’ll have a word with him.”

“They keeping you for observation?” Tony asked.

“Just overnight.”

They were silent for a moment, Don focused past the dizziness that wouldn’t quite go away, and the headache that throbbed behind his eyes to watch Tony while Tony looked away. It gave him a moment to study Tony’s face, but nothing about it had changed. Maybe the other man had lost some of the humour Don had come to expect from him, and he looked tired, beyond tired, so that Don wondered if it was from tracking down Spearing and finding Don. But he still looked much the same and it might have been irrational but Don felt that he shouldn’t. 

“You have to know I didn’t mean it,” Tony told him, finished gathering his thoughts and finally meeting his eyes again. “I wasn’t... I’m not using you.”

“I know,” Don said and it was the one thing that had been clarified for him in the whole mess. He’d considered any number of options in the beginning, that having been one of them, but he was more sure of the truth now. Some instinct of his had said he could trust Tony long before he’d really had anything to back it up and, while he’d been conflicted about the disparity, it was gratifying to know he hadn’t been wrong. “NCIS?”

It was the only thing that made sense and Tony nodded, not bothering to prevaricate or deny it, but then he’d promised that if Don asked, he’d tell. Don exhaled, feeling some tightly coiled thing in his chest unclench and ease. He’d let himself be compromised, but not as badly as it could have been.

“You put yourself in the hands of a criminal you knew would want you dead because of me,” Don said, knowing he would have done the same for his team or to save an innocent, but if there was one thing he’d learned in his career, it was that the why of it was just as important as the results. He'd made enough mistakes, betrayed his own ethics enough, to have learned that the hard way.

“It was worth it,” Tony told him simply, as if he hadn’t believed there was another option. Don breathed in sharply, because that was a little too close to things they didn’t speak about, not after just a month. Not when the thought of it made his palms sweat and his heart pound in his chest. Because he trusted Tony beyond cause and reason, hadn’t believed his words to Spearing for a moment, and that was risky, that meant he was vulnerable in ways he couldn’t guard against. Ways that made doing the job dangerous.

“Tony,” Don said softly.

“You angered the same criminal when you didn’t need to,” Tony argued. 

“I wasn’t going to watch him kill you.”

He’d almost watched Tony die because he was protecting Don and he wasn't not sure that was something he’d ever have been able to get over. Tony smiled at him, soft and genuine, and Don felt himself returning it before he even realised.

“My life has been a mess for a long time before coming to LA. You’re the one thing that’s made any sense to me,” Tony continued, so much emotion in his eyes when they met Don’s and Don knew, between the medication and concussion, he wasn’t hiding much of anything either. This probably wasn’t the best time to be having this conversation, but delaying it wouldn’t be any better. 

“Tony,” Don started, but didn’t get much further than “I can’t” before Tony’s gaze skittered away from his again, jaw firming as he did so. “I need some time to think about things. Before I’m in so deep I can’t find my way out.”

“I understand,” Tony said, voice and expression strangely blank. Don had never seen him so devoid of anything at all.

“Tony.” 

Don wanted to reach out to him but he didn’t know how and then it was too late. Tony stood just as the door opened and his father looked in with a smile.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Alan said.

“It’s all right, sir,” Tony said. “I was just leaving.”

There wasn’t anything Don could say then as Tony brushed past his father, head turned away so Alan wouldn’t get a good look at him, and was gone.

“Who’s he?” Alan asked.

“Someone from work,” Don said. The last thing he wanted to do was get into it.

“Doesn’t seem a very friendly sort,” Alan said and Don winced at the unfair assessment, but Alan had chosen exactly the wrong moment to meet him.

“It’s been a very difficult few days.”

“Yes,” Alan said, sitting down at Don’s bedside and covering his hand with his own. “I can see that. Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Don said, but he was torn between wanting to go after Tony and wanting to forget the last month had ever happened. 

...

Kensi was grinning when Tony left the room, but it faded when she saw his frown. He looked at her and smiled, bright and wide and somehow empty for all that.

"You credentials," he said, tossing her badge back to her since he didn't have his own on him. She caught it and slid it back into place. 

"They didn't notice it wasn't yours?" she asked, a little worried about the caliber of agent they'd assigned to watch Eppes. If she knew Hetty though, the woman had her own eyes on the agent.

"Enough swagger can get you in anywhere," he said with a shrug.

“The old guy got by me before I could warn you,” she told him apologetically. It was still a little before visiting hours and Don's team had already been to see him; she hadn't been expecting anyone else. It was a rather sad state of affairs for her team that the thought of family visiting was only secondary. He shook his head.

“It wasn’t an issue. They check you out?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close for a moment. He seemed to need the moment of contact, so she didn’t comment on it.

“I’ll be a rainbow of colours for a while, but there wasn’t anything permanently damaged,” she told him.

“Next time try to find a solution other than taking a bullet,” he said, bumping her shoulder. She grinned at him again.

“Next time try wearing a vest.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Tony told her. He looked a little better now and she figured it had just been a very long few days for all of them and Tony was starting to feel the comedown after the thrill of adrenaline faded. “I told him that he was the only thing that made sense to me, but that’s not entirely true.”

She noticed that he still refrained from using names and specifics, and knew making him comfortable with her knowing this side of him was going to take a long time, but she was also extremely grateful for the trust he was showing her. 

“Good,” she told him, “because you’re stuck with us now.”

“How awful,” he said with a smile that made her think she was at least some of the way there. 

“We’ll see how you feel when Sam’s lecturing you and Hetty knows your every move before you do. Come on, lover boy,” she said as she smacked his ass, not willing to look too closely at or address the warm and mushy feelings she was getting from the conversation. “I’ve got take out Chinese and a spare room for you to crash in before we report in.”

“That’s not necessary,” he began but she shushed him.

“What did I just say about being stuck with us,” she told him and hooked her arm in his, half leading and half dragging him to the exit, taking his token resistance as acceptance.

“Yes ma’am,” he said quietly and with more than a little sarcasm.

“Take that tone with me and I’ll make you watch the last Die Hard movie instead of one of the first three,” she warned, leaning in to him a little, because those few minutes of not knowing what was going on with him, whether he was alive or not, when his transmitter was taken, had been some of the worst. 

“Not even you are that cruel.”

“Just be glad I don’t make it the new Alice in Wonderland.”

As close as they were, she could feel his full body shudder and laughed. 

“Tony,” a voice said that she immediately recognised as Professor Eppes and she realised she shouldn’t be surprised to see him given that his brother was in a room here.

“Charlie,” Tony greeted back, smile warm, but there was something distant about him too, something he was holding back that she hadn’t seen in their previous interactions. 

“They said Don’s safe because of what you did,” Charlie told him, reaching out a hand for him to shake. Tony disentangled himself from her to do so.

“Just doing my job,” Tony said, still smiling, but it was definitely forced now. “You understand about me being undercover?”

“It did occur to me when I heard your voice being identified as a CI called Donati,” Charlie said with a roll of his eyes. Kensi had worried a little about the professor accidentally revealing everything, but he’d been very close-lipped about the whole thing.

“Your brother’s team doesn’t know,” Tony told him softly, hesitantly, as though he wasn’t entirely sure how Charlie would react to the mild censure. Kensi figured he was being extra cautious given his relationship with the older Eppes brother. 

“I understand. I’ve worked for the NSA before, I know when to keep my mouth closed,” Charlie said, expression shifting to a serious frown. He reached out and grabbed Tony’s arm, giving it a squeeze. “You put yourself in danger, you risked exposing your cover, for my brother; keeping quiet is the least I can do.”

“Thank you,” Tony said, painfully sincere, like he didn’t know how to deal with genuine fondness and understanding.

“We’ll leave you to see your brother, Professor,” Kensi said, putting her arm in Tony’s once more. “We’ve got plans with food and sleep.”

Charlie nodded and, with his own goodbyes, they went their separate ways. 

...

After barely enough sleep to take the edge off his exhaustion, Tony found himself at the FBI building, only this time as a witness, not a suspect. Granger met him at the lobby and escorted him upstairs in silence after the cursory greetings. 

“Mr Donati,” Charlie greeted with a warm smile, but otherwise didn’t indicate any other knowledge of him. 

“Professor Eppes,” Tony said, wondering if the man would be as friendly if he knew what had gone down between Tony and Don. 

The thought of Don hurt, but not as much as the loss of the stupid, desperate hope he’d allowed himself to feel when he realised Don knew he was an agent and there was no longer that barrier between them. But it was a lot to risk, he knew that, a lot to keep hidden, especially from someone as close to their family and team as Don was, so he understood. Even if he wished he didn’t.

Warner watched him closely, but she didn’t seem wary so much as curious. Granger and Betancourt were at least neutral; it was the rest of the office that seemed suspicious of him. Tony was just glad the FBI hadn’t been able to hear the conversation he’d had with Spearing before they’d all charged to the rescue. He wasn’t sure he’d have even this amount of tolerance if they had. And that made him consider something else.

“Is the transmitter still active?” he asked the room at large. 

“You think Miller has it?” Nell said, glancing at him, wide-eyed, before turning back to her laptop. She worked a moment before playing audio. It was muffled conversation, none the man he knew as Miller, but Tony realised he was probably in a public place somewhere. 

“We can use the information provided from his surroundings to narrow down his location,” Granger said. 

Tony was just glad that they had a direction to go in. He knew none of them would rest until they found the agent who’d almost given two of their own (even if only one was widely known) over to be killed.

“You can get started on finding out who Allen really is,” Warner said, dropping a series of files on a desk near him and gestured him to it. Tony flipped open the first one and saw a heavily redacted file of one of the agents in the office. 

“Not going to give me access to the electronic files?” he asked with a grin.

“No chance,” Warner told him. “Not without permission from the boss.”

“Somehow, I don’t see that happening any time soon,” Tony said to himself. Warner raised an eyebrow but Tony ignored her and focused on the files.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys. Between trying to find a permanent job and trying to sell the house and move, there just hasn’t been much time for much else. End of July was also a year since my father died.
> 
> This doesn’t apply to most of you guys, but FYI, if I haven’t posted in a while, it’s usually because other things are stressing me so much I can’t focus on writing. Telling me that it’s ‘unfair’ I haven’t finished something or pointing out that 'there are only a couple chapters left, why don’t you just write them already, it’s not that difficult,' doesn’t really help either of us. 
> 
> Most of you guys are amazing and encouraging and I’m really glad to share a fandom with you, but there are one or two who, probably entirely unintentionally, make me close whatever story I’m working on and put it off for a while. Writing is the thing I do for fun, to get away from the stressful stuff going on around me. The more it becomes one of those stressful things, the less I want to do it. 
> 
> If you really want to see updates, instead of making me feel bad about it, maybe point out something you’re hoping to see happen in the next chapter, so I can jump start my creative process. I usually want to finish writing stories as much as you guys want me to, I just get a little stuck sometimes. /rant
> 
> On a more positive note, I signed up for the Criminal Minds Reverse Big Bang and fulfilling a prompt for that got me writing again. It’ll be posted sometime next month.

Tony was just headed out for some air when Agent Warner came to stand beside him as he waited for the elevator. Kensi kept finding excuses to need his input and Nell kept insisting that he was too much of a target to be left to his own devices, so he was able to keep in the loop about Don’s condition and the progress of the case. The problem was keeping up his cover when he was surrounded by his team and agents he was coming to trust, and they were working a case, which all made him inclined to relax his personal guard even when he shouldn’t. 

Warner remained silent as the elevator opened and they both stepped in. Tony pressed the button for the ground floor and waited for Warner to say what she clearly wanted to. It took a moment after the elevator had started to move before she turned to face him.

“Agent,” she said, looking him directly in the eye.

Tony thought about denying it for a moment but then realised there was very little point. There was no uncertainty in her voice and a denial would only allow him to keep the fiction that she wouldn’t be able to verify his identity. It explained why she’d let him stick around as much as she had, she was observing as much as she could about him and his circumstances.

“What gave me away?” he asked, not just out of curiosity. If he was doing something that could be so easily read, he needed to know about it.

“I thought for a moment you and Agent Blye were involved, the way you both reacted, but after making sure she was all right, you barely looked at her. You kept looking at Don.”

“I did risk my life for him. I was making sure the sacrifice was worth it.”

“It’s more than that,” Warner said, meeting his gaze steadily. “You’re seeing him. Romantically.”

“I don’t know where you’d get that idea.”

“That’s not a denial.”

“We’re not seeing each other,” Tony said bluntly, hoping the entirely truthful, if not entirely honest, denial would put her off. 

“But you were, even if you aren’t now,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Don’s an idiot when it comes to relationships. He tends to be a little rash when he feels cornered.”

“I don’t know what we are at the moment,” Tony admitted finally. “Is this going to be a problem for him?”

“No, of course not. I just never thought... He never said...” Warner trailed off and shook her head, dismissing her line of thought. “He didn’t know about you?”

“I didn’t tell him, not exactly,” Tony said. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t know.”

Warner easily conceded that with a nod. Tony was sure that she knew better than he did how good Don was at his job. As awkward as it should have been, Tony found himself liking her despite everything. 

“Maybe you’ll have better luck interpreting his silences,” she said with an exasperated sigh that ended on a smile.

“I’ve had some practice,” Tony told her and Don with his quiet, sometimes frustrated inability to express himself had nothing on Gibbs’ sullen cold-shoulders and refusal to communicate. It didn’t even have anything on Tony’s father’s own brand of inability to see anything outside of himself.

The elevator doors opened and Warner followed him out through security. Tony closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, turning his face toward the warm sun. Finally, he turned back to Warner.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked. 

“Because Don’s been happier the last few weeks, the weight on his shoulders has rested a little lighter,” she told him. 

“How can you tell?” Tony asked with a teasing smile, trying to ignore the warm, fluttery feeling in his stomach at the thought of Don being happy with him. It was quickly chased by the thought that Don didn’t want him, but that couldn’t quite extinguish the hope Warner had fed that Don might change his mind. 

“His silences are a little less sullen,” Warner said, smiling back. “And he’s not nearly so grouchy.”

“Good to know I’m the equivalent of a good cup of coffee,” Tony said dryly, tempering his emotions and pushing down his fierce desire to seek out Don and hash things out until they came to a different resolution. Don had made his position clear and Tony wasn’t sure he could put himself forward like that again. 

“I found that if he didn’t come around, a swift kick usually did the rest,” she told him, giving him a brief pat on the shoulder and returning inside. Tony turned his face up to the sky again before continuing his way down the street. 

...

“Hey Charlie,” Amita said, greeting him with a brief kiss before settling down next to him at the table and pulling out her laptop and several files. “Nikki dropped off the files she wanted me to use to create a list of possible locations for Allen. I thought I’d use the same set of equations you used to predict Crystal Hoyle’s movements, add in some decision theory.”

“That’s a good idea,” Charlie said with a nod. It hadn’t taken long for the two men to split up and go to ground. While they had the transmitter giving them information on Miller, they only had Allen’s past behaviour to use to predict his future whereabouts. 

“How’s Don?” Amita asked softly.

“He’s doing better,” Charlie told her, though his frown didn’t ease. He always struggled with the realities of Don’s job, even after years of consulting, especially when something affected them personally. And nothing was more personal than some psycho taking his brother. The last thing Charlie wanted to think about was what might have happened if Tony hadn’t been willing to step in like he had, but that didn’t stop Charlie from running through all the permutations in his head. “Dad’s fussing over him at his place.”

As much as Charlie had wanted him home, where they could all keep an eye on him, Don had adamantly refused. After what he’d been through, Don wanted to be home, in his own space, and Charlie couldn’t exactly blame him, even if he wanted something else.

“Despite what he has been through, your brother has shown a propensity for overcoming whatever difficulties face him,” Larry said. 

Amita reached over to squeeze Charlie’s hand and he gave her a grateful smile. He might have been a maths prodigy, a tenured professor at a prestigious university, a consultant for several government agencies, but he would be the first to say that she was the best thing he had going for him. 

“What happened with the man who found Don?” Larry asked, scribbling his equation on one of the black boards. Charlie and Larry were trying to narrow down Miller’s location from what information they could get while the transmitter still worked.

“He’s fine,” Charlie told them. Amita glanced at him, sensing something more under his casual tone. “Though it’s been interesting working with him.”

“Yeah?” she prompted, her typing ceasing for a moment as she closed the file next to her and opened another.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to explain to them his desire to see Tony’s potential realised, not without explaining who he was and just how he’d helped Don. He just had the feeling that if he could get Tony in an academic environment, he could find a way to really unlock that potential. Charlie wasn’t sure how Tony had managed in law enforcement with its generally methodical, structured and extremely linear approach, but he’d somehow made the system work for him and Charlie really wanted to know how. 

“He’s a non-linear thinker,” Charlie said, trying to think of a way to explain the mix of pop culture and movie trivia that seemed to tie Tony’s disparate thought processes together. “Extremely intuitive and adept at piecing together patterns without seeing the whole picture.”

He stopped there, not sure how to explain to them his preoccupation with Tony or why he couldn’t let it go other than he owed the man for what he’d done for Don and hated unacknowledged potential. There was so much more Tony could be doing if he just let himself, but he also knew any overtures he could make to try to bring Tony into his sphere wouldn’t be without their complications.

“Be careful or I might start to feel jealous,” Amita said, laughing lightly and Charlie let himself relax, just a little, after everything that had happened.

“That is not something you don't ever have to worry about,” he told her before leaning over and kissing her lightly before pulling away again. She smiled softly at him, warm and affectionate, and closed the distance between them again.

“As happy as I am at your wedded bliss,” Larry said, clearing his throat. “I believe we’ve narrowed down your suspect’s location to a manageable dataset for the FBI to follow up on.”

“I’ve got a few places for the FBI to start looking for Allen, too,” Amita conceded, shooting Larry a sheepish look. 

...

“We have an area,” Charlie said, rolling out a map on the conference table with several sections shaded in different colours. The agents crowded around looking it over. “We think, from previous patterns of behaviour and what we’ve been able to track of his movements, that Lucas Harris also known as Agent Allen, is somewhere in this area.”

“There’s something...” Kensi started and shook her head, clearly trying to remember what prompted her thought. “Deeks has a contact on this block, I think.”

Tony watched from across the room, not involving himself since the two teams had the matter in hand. He’d identified the agent calling himself Allen and was now being made to look through Spearing’s known associates for the man who’d called himself Miller. It was necessary, he knew, but it was hardly compelling investigative work. 

“Go,” Warner told her and Kensi nodded, gesturing to Nell. Both women reached for their guns and badges, slotting them into place.

“The rest of our team is standing by to assist with the search too,” Nell said before she followed Kensi out, trotting after the other woman’s longer stride.

It didn’t take Warner long to call NCIS and organise the rest of the team to search for Miller, until it was only him and Charlie left in the office. Tony watched as Charlie sidled up to him. They both glanced around to see if anyone was paying them any attention, Tony more subtly than Charlie. 

“I have this group,” Charlie began. “More of a think tank.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, wondering where the professor with going with his observation. 

“And they helped with the calculations?” Tony asked.

“No, well yes. They’re often drawn in as support on cases and I did consult them for this,” Charlie told him. “But we look at more than just cases; we investigate unconventional solutions to real-world problems.”

“Sounds intense.”

“It’s mostly a lot of arguing over the investigative method; theory versus practical, you know how it is,” Charlie said.

“Not really,” Tony told him, bemused. Most of his debates centered around casework or movies, nothing that would influence the world on the level Charlie and his colleagues had. 

“We’d really like to get your input sometimes,” Charlie told him.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Tony said, watching Charlie’s shifting expression closely, but all he could read was nervousness and anticipation. 

“The think tank, it could use a different perspective,” Charlie told him. “That’s the point of it.”

“I’m not really sure what I’d have to offer.”

“We’ve got mathematicians, physicists, engineers, statisticians. We’re very skilled at finding solutions in our own fields, but we don’t really have anyone who can look at the whole picture,” Charlie enthused.

“Given how things stand,” Tony began slowly, keeping his inference vague because he didn’t know how much Charlie knew about where he stood with Don or the FBI, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I know you have to keep your cover,” Charlie said softly, looking around with such obvious suspicion that Tony had to smile, if only because he’d already been monitoring anyone who came close enough to hear them talk. “If you don’t mind me sometimes coming to you for input, I don’t mind acting as go-between.”

“I’ll need to think about it,” Tony told him. He didn’t really see what use he’d be to a bunch of brains like Charlie’s but the professor seemed so eager that Tony was hesitant to dash his hopes. “It’s not a simple thing.”

“Of course,” Charlie said, unable to entirely hide his disappointment as he stepped back. “I realise your position makes things complicated.”

“I appreciate that you even considered me,” Tony said, some part of him certain that the professor had made some kind of mistake, even if the man seemed convinced otherwise. 

“Think about it,” Charlie said with earnest insistence and Tony nodded.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments. You guys really are awesome and I appreciate the time you took to give support. I’m definitely finding writing fun again and here’s the next chapter as evidence. :)

Callen pushed Miller ahead of him into the boat shed when his feet began to drag at his reluctance. They’d been called in not too long after Kensi and Nell and the rest of their task force had run into issues closing in on Allen, or Harris, whatever he was calling himself. Callen and Sam had been more than happy to lend a hand given the threat Harris had posed to Tony and Eppes. 

He wasn’t too surprised to see Tony rise from where he’d been sitting on the couch as they entered. They’d put through the call that they were bringing Miller there instead of FBI offices because it was closer and more secure until Harris had been apprehended. And Callen could understand the need for closure. 

“You’re nothing but a rat, scurrying after the leftovers other people have thrown away,” Miller snarled, trying to pull at Callen’s grip, but he held firm. Tony’s response was little more than a raised eyebrow as he dismissed the man.

“Any word on the other one?” Tony asked instead.

“They’re closing in,” Sam answered. “Tracked down the counterfeit ID guy Deeks knows, but Harris had already been and gone by the time they got there. Their analysts are working on tracking down his current location.”

Tony nodded and ran a hand through his hair, the only indication they had that any of this was even close to unnerving him. Callen didn’t know all the details, not when he wasn’t on the task force, but Kensi had been hovering more than usual since they’d rescued Eppes. 

“Do they know what you did with the agent?” Miller asked. “How you used him?”

“Shut up,” Callen told him, giving him a shake. But that didn’t stop him from noticing the way Tony’s jaw clenched or the way his entire body seemed to still, like he was poised on the edge of action. Fight or flight, Callen wondered. Or, given that this was Tony, distraction or obfuscation.

“Which one of them are you planning to entice over morning coffees now?” Miller continued, unheeding, desperate to score some sort of mark against Tony before he went away without the chance forever. With the charges including assault and kidnapping of a federal agent, there was no jury that would go easy on him. And the chances of him getting a deal when Harris was almost in their clutches and, between them, Professor Eppes, Nell and Eric had broken Spearing’s code, were next to none. 

Callen pushed him forward again, toward the interrogation room as it was the easiest place to stash him until the FBI caught Harris and came to pick up Miller.

“Which of them are you going to whore yourself out to?” Miller shouted as Callen shoved him into the interrogation room, not caring too much if he accidentally shoved him against the door frame or into the corner of the table before pushing him down into the chair. He was more than happy to slam the door shut behind him.

He returned to find Tony, face expressionless and arms folded, and Sam pacing the length of the floor. Callen didn’t need to imagine how a revelation like that might have gone for Tony before, at his previous jobs. As much as their office didn’t care one way or other, he knew that wasn’t always the case, and he’d seen the results of too many hate crimes to believe it always went well.

“You’ve been having coffee with Agent Eppes?” Sam asked, finally stopping his restless pacing and turning to look at Tony. “How often?”

“Is that a crime?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow, but otherwise giving nothing away. 

“You know better than that,” Sam told him, jabbing a finger in his direction, but didn’t actually touch him. “You know better than to be predictable.”

“I wasn’t aware I answered to you,” Tony said, unfolding his arms, his hands dropping to his sides.

“You know damn well Hetty would say exactly the same thing,” Sam continued, moving forward until they were barely inches apart.

Callen could see from the way Tony held himself, the tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers flexed like he wanted to curl them into fists, that he was expecting a fight. Not necessarily a physical one, but certainly not support. 

“We understand where you’re coming from,” he said softly, cutting through Sam’s angry ranting. 

“If you wanted to spend more time with your boyfriend, you should have just made a booty call,” Sam said with a dismissive snort. Given their combined backgrounds and how none of them was particularly comfortable dealing with emotion, that was as much of a ringing endorsement as Tony was likely to get. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Tony said finally, expression shuttered closed but some of the tension had leached out of his shoulders and his weight had shifted off the balls of his feet. 

“Relationships in our line of work are a losing battle,” Callen told him, even if he knew Tony was aware of that already. 

It was especially true of undercover agents. There were just too many secrets to sustain anything long term. And even the other person was willing to put up with that, there were compromises and sacrifices that still had to be made. Very few people were willing to put up with all of that.

“Speak for yourself,” Sam added with a scoff as he clapped Tony on the shoulder. Callen could admit that he looked at Sam’s relationship with his wife with more than a little longing, but they only worked as well as they did because they kept few secrets and, given that Michelle was with the CIA, they both understood the sacrifices that had to be made. 

Tony’s phone rang and he glanced down at it briefly.

“Hey Kensi,” he said as he stepped away long enough to have a short conversation during which his entire body seemed to relax. Callen watched curiously, glad that at least Tony was willing to take support from her. He ended the call not too long after and turned back to them. “She says they’ve got Harris.”

“Drinks are on him,” Callen said, gesturing in Sam’s direction and was gratified when Tony finally smiled.

...

Liz nodded to Alan as she entered Don’s apartment. He moved off to the kitchen while Liz continued on to the living room where Don sat, staring at his laptop. She knew he was reviewing the reports she and the team had been making, but that he wouldn’t have had the latest update.

“How are you doing?” she asked him as she sat down, even though she only expected one answer. 

“Fine,” he said. And there it was. Despite the bruises marking his face and the way he still squinted through a headache.

“Of course,” she agreed, hiding her smirk. Not very well if the look Don shot her was any indication. 

“How’s the case going?” he asked, staring at her steadily and she sighed. Clearly, Tony hadn’t been understating it when he said they weren’t together any more. Don hadn’t been this uptight in weeks. 

“Harris and Miller are in custody,” she told him. “We’ve taken custody of Spearing’s supply and NCIS is tying up the loose ends of his operation. Hetty Lange insisted and apparently no one says no to her.”

Don gave her a look at that, raising his eyebrows, and she wasn’t sure what to read into that beyond scepticism. She wondered if it had anything to do with Agent Tony whatever his name really was. The very fact that there was an agent undercover amongst their own indicated that someone had their eye on a far larger picture than she was aware of. 

“Everything should be wrapped up in the next few days,” she told him. “Just in time for you to come back to work.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Don said, cutting a glance at where Alan was standing, making a cup of tea and Liz had to withhold a laugh at how he could still be intimidated by his father’s disapproval. Although, she could concede that they hadn’t always had the best relationship and it had taken years of near estrangement before they’d become as close knit as they were now.

“You sure you don’t want to take a few paid days off, go have a little fun?” she asked. If NCIS was anything like FBI, Tony would have a few days off after an undercover operation, and if Don had even a little common sense he would track him down and take advantage of that time. She wasn’t entirely sure he did though. “Blye and Jones have already returned to NCIS and Donati has disappeared to wherever he came from.”

“Oh?” Don said without inflection and she gave him a disingenuous smile. They knew each other too well to try to hide anything.

“I imagine he’ll probably have some time on his hands.”

Don stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed as he searched her expression. She raised an eyebrow at him and refused to look away.

“You know.”

He glanced at his father again, the muscle in his jaw ticking and she was tempted to warn him about grinding his teeth.

“Yes,” she said, not bothering to specify whether they were talking about his status as an agent or his involvement with Don. Both were equally relevant.

“I told him I needed time,” Don said finally with a sigh and she could see the moment his walls fell and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know where things stand.”

“Man up,” Liz told him, leaning forward to pat his knee. That managed to startle a laugh out of him and she grinned at him. “You’ve just got to decide if the problem is worth untangling.”

“That simple, huh?” he said and leaned back in his chair, looking tired. 

“I just want you to be happy,” she told him and he smiled at her a little wanly.

“It would be so much easier if it was you.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” she told him, patting his knee again. They’d had their chance and, while she could look back on their time together fondly now, she knew neither of them had been willing to compromise to make it work. “Ask yourself this, what is it you really want?”

“I don’t know,” Don said, but he looked away, hands clenching on the arm rests. She leaned back and sighed. Don really was so much work.


	21. Chapter 21

Tony was just signing off on his last report, looking forward to a few days off, when there was a commotion at the entrance.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs yelled as he strode into the building, gaze sweeping over everyone until it settled on Tony. “What did you do!?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Tony said, rising to his feet. He knew exactly what Gibbs was referring to; going to Morrow and the scrutiny that had resulted from that. But given the way Gibbs had stormed in, Tony wasn’t inclined to be charitable. 

“You know exactly what I mean, you son of a bitch,” Gibbs said, stalking up to him. 

“You mean knowingly participating in an unsanctioned operation or covering up a murder or three?” Tony asked.

Gibbs raised a hand and Tony took a measured step back, out of his reach. He wasn’t Gibbs’ subordinate any more, he wasn’t Gibbs’ anything. He’d drawn his line but it had taken a little longer to realise he really did deserve better. 

“I wouldn’t recommend assaulting a federal officer, Mr Gibbs,” Kensi said, coming up behind him. Tony couldn’t help the smirk the curled the corner of his mouth at her pointed reference to his lack of title. 

“Are you too much of a coward to face me on your own?” Gibbs demanded.

“It’s recently been brought to my attention that I don’t have to,” Tony said, glance cutting from Kensi to Sam and Callen who had approached as well. They stood in silent support, letting him take point until he needed them. 

“Everything I’ve worked for is gone,” Gibbs snarled. “You were supposed to take over from me, not raze it to the ground.”

“It was always a house of cards,” Tony told him. If they’d all been doing their jobs right, everything should have held, even when Tony pulled one of the struts. The fact that it hadn’t was as much an indictment of himself as any of them. 

Jimmy had said Ziva had returned to Israel and McGee was looking to the private sector now. Gibbs was past the age of retiring from the field, though Tony assumed he’d stayed there with sheer charisma and judicious use of favours, and he’d never been able to keep a team before Tony. Even if he did get his job back, there weren’t too many who’d work for him now.

“Besides, we worked to help people, to bring justice to them. None of that is gone,” Tony continued. “Our job wasn’t to build your reputation.”

“You think this is about me?” Gibbs demanded, getting into Tony’s space.

“Isn’t it?” Tony asked, not flinching or giving any ground.

“I shouldn’t have brought you back from Baltimore.”

It should have been a blow but, as Tony exhaled slowly, he realised it didn’t matter. It hurt, but in a distant way, not one that cut him deeply and left him picking up the pieces. 

“That’s enough, Gibbs,” Callen said firmly, coming to stand at Tony’s side. If the team going for drinks the night before hadn’t been enough to show Tony they had his back, then this certainly did. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Callen,” Gibbs said, giving him a nod. 

“Gibbs,” Callen said in return, not giving in at all. “A word.”

Gibbs stared hard at Tony for a moment as though he was trying to work out who this stranger in front of him was and it was enough for Tony to finally take the last step away from him. Gibbs had been a huge part of his life and Tony could be grateful for the impact he’d had on him without forgetting the hurt that had followed. He could also acknowledge that that was in the past now. Gibbs seemed to read at least some of that in his expression because he simply shook his head and followed Callen out without another word. 

“Agent DiNozzo,” Hetty said from her doorway. “A moment of your time.”

“Of course,” Tony said, breathing in deeply and drawing himself together before following her into her office. “I’m sorry for the display out there.”

“I fail to see how it was your fault,” Hetty said dismissively, before opening up a folder on her desk. “I have an offer for you.”

“One I can’t refuse?” Tony asked with a hesitant smile and Hetty’s serious expression cracked just a little. 

“I hope not,” she told him. “There’s an opening for a Supervisory Special Agent.”

Which Tony took to mean that the team, and especially Callen, had been reluctant to trust any newcomers who hadn’t proved themselves with authority over the team and the position had remained open. While the team had come to trust him as an equal, he wasn’t sure they’d accept him making decisions for them. He wasn’t sure Hetty would be able to release her tight control of the office either. 

“And you want me?”

“I could use someone to delegate paperwork to,” she told him, her eyes crinkling in amusement even if she didn’t quite smile. 

“I won’t do well behind a desk,” he continued. 

“You’re an asset I’m not willing to waste. Your involvement in cases will be entirely at your own discretion,” she assured him. “And you’ll be formally responsible for Ms Jones’s training.”

It was a good indication that she was willing to compromise and delegate from the get go. It gave him hope that things might change for the better. 

“All right,” he said standing and shaking her hand. 

“We’ll sort out a permanent office space for you,” she told him before returning to her work.

He grinned as he exited the office and glanced up the stairs.

“Probie!”

...

It took Don three days to come across Tony while running. He’d tried their usual time and route, but hadn’t found him that way. So he’d resorted to spending his mornings camped out by the river, knowing Tony liked the view and would be by eventually.

As much as he hadn’t wanted to listen to Liz, he’d known she was right the moment the words were out and he couldn’t ignore them, couldn’t ignore the way he was letting something good slip through his fingers again. 

“Tony,” he called and watched as the other man slowed and turned to face him. A flurry of emotion crossed his face too quickly for Don to pick anything up. 

“Don,” Tony said evenly.

Don stared at him for a long moment, not sure what to say. Tony ran a hand through his hair before he sighed.

“You’re looking better,” he said finally and Don stepped forward before stopping himself.

“That’s thanks to you,” Don told him. “You risked a lot for me.”

“Just doing my job,” Tony said with a shrug, looking uncomfortable at having his actions put on display.

“Your job, huh?” Don asked with a faint smile and Tony grinned at him. Don knew it was more than just that. Maybe Tony would have done the same for anyone taken, but he’d seen Tony’s expression when he’d found him. 

“Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,” Tony said, reaching out a hand.

“Special Agent Don Eppes,” Don said, shaking his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tony laughed and Don couldn’t help but smile with him. When they’d been together before Don had had the luxury of letting himself believe that it wasn’t serious. Without knowing who Tony really was he’d been able to keep him at arm’s length. But looking at the way Tony was smiling at him now, he knew that had all been a lie. Whatever distance he thought they’d had had only been in his head. 

“I missed you,” he said, not blaming Tony at all for his surprise at that declaration. “It might have taken some intervention, but I know I was an idiot.”

"I know things were difficult for you," Tony said softly, giving him an easy out and, as tempting as it was to take, once he'd faced the truth, Don wasn't comfortable with a lie any more. Don might have tripped over himself in the process, but none of that had been about Tony, not when Don wasn't making excuses. 

"You weren't one of those things."

“Want to go for coffee?” Tony asked finally and Don couldn’t help the fond smile he gave him. 

“I’d really like that.”

Don moved forward then, edging Tony back until he was backed against a tree and rested a hand next to his head and the other on his hip. 

“Something I can help you with, Agent Eppes?” Tony asked, amused, but Don couldn’t miss the way his eyes darkened.

“I was worried about getting in too deep,” he said. “But it’s already too late for that.”

Don pressed forward then, angling his mouth to Tony’s. When Tony’s hands rose to cradle the back of his head, Don shifted to deepen the kiss. This, Don knew, was right. This was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally at the end and I just want to thank you all for taking the journey with me. This story ended up way longer and way more involved than I intended at the start, but it felt like it needed to be told. It's meant a lot to me and you guys have been incredible through the entire process.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Drawing the Line](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13926822) by [Red_Pink_Dots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Pink_Dots/pseuds/Red_Pink_Dots)




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